


Void Children: Little Slices of Life Edition

by Anonymous_Vermin_Invader



Series: Void Children [1]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Grimm Troupe spoilers on chapter 8 - 10, Mild Gore, Post-Game, Slice of Life, Void Children AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-15 22:03:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 56,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11815077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous_Vermin_Invader/pseuds/Anonymous_Vermin_Invader
Summary: These are where the written snippets/written adaptions of the Hollow Knight AU, Void Children, shall be kept.The summery of the Void Children AU goes as follows: What if the young Knight wasn't the only Vessel that survived? What if our hollow protagonist stumbled upon 3 siblings huddling in the dark, scared and abandoned, but very much alive.Comics:http://peculiurperennial.tumblr.com/post/163501657372/and-now-theres-a-comic-im-getting-too-investedhttp://peculiurperennial.tumblr.com/post/164113486332/what-was-that-quirrel-were-you-about-tohttp://peculiurperennial.tumblr.com/post/164902652382/skipping-stones-with-zote-inspired-by





	1. The Blue Lake

**Author's Note:**

> Written adaption of the Void Children AU comic: http://peculiurperennial.tumblr.com/post/164113486332/what-was-that-quirrel-were-you-about-to

“Ah, the Blue Lake! Such a sight to behold, is it not?” Quirrel stated jubilantly.

Beside him stood the silent figure of Ghost, their three siblings already scurrying up to the edge of the lake to peer down at their distorted reflections on the water’s surface.

Tiny, the smallest of the siblings, seemed especially bemused by their own reflection as they reached out in an attempt to touch it.

Quirrel let out a content sigh and sat down as a sense of nostalgia came over him; reaching into his satchel to retrieve a quill and scroll to jot down a few details about the pristine lake.

Ghost also sat down, sitting just beside Quirrel whilst vigilantly observing his siblings like a diligent mother watching over their young. It was impossible to tell what the Knight was thinking, but Quirrel felt the need to talk aloud whilst he watched the children play by the water’s edge.

“Anyways, it was nice of you to escort me on the way here, friend. Despite the fact that we both know that you’ve already been to this place before.”—he glanced up from his note taking to eye the Ghost— “Though, I hope you do realize that it wasn’t necessary. I _have_ explored these caverns enough to know my way around without getting lost.”

At this, the expressionless little wanderer turned their head to focus their hollow gaze on Quirrel. 

“Unless…” Quirrel continued after a beat, “you had some other reason for tagging along?”

For a moment, the Knight merely stared at him; Quirrel had always found their gaze to be remarkably intense despite their lack of visible expression. Then, slowly, a void-black hand reached out from underneath their grey cloak; their gaze never leaving Quirrel’s as they rested the hand on the hilt of their nail, tilting it slightly to indicate it briefly before retracting their hand back beneath their cloak.

It took Quirrel a second to understand the gesture. Usually Ghost hardly ever attempted any form of communication other than stoically staring ahead or looking up at bugs when wanting to listen, or sometimes drawing their weapon when challenging a bug to a fight. They never seemed to nod or shake their head for yes or no, despite Quirrel’s attempts to teach Ghost and their three siblings how to write and communicate via other nonverbal methods. The three siblings were more receptive to the lessons, but Ghost simply seemed impartial. 

Quirrel was certain that the Knight was capable of reading, he’d witness them looking up at the old signs scattered around various points in Hallownest. But whenever he tried to encourage the Knight to write something, they would only stare at the paper in front of them with quill in hand, as if they simply didn’t know what to write. Like their mind was simply empty of any thoughts that could be transferred onto paper.

_“The vessels were created to be devoid of emotion,” Hornet had informed Quirrel when he had brought up his concerns for Ghost’s behavior. “The Old Light infected the bugs of Hallownest’s minds and dreams to chip away at their will and revert them back to their primal ways. The Vessels were created to be immune to the Old light’s influence by having no mind to think, no will to break, and no voice to cry suffering. The vessels that didn’t meet those standards were cast aside and deemed as failures.”_

That had brought Quirrel no comfort, and as his concern for Ghost’s mental wellbeing increased, he began to put more effort towards trying to coax the young Knight into displaying any type of response other than their trademark empty stare.

The fact that right now, Ghost was attempting to convey something by using simple gestures had Quirrel struggling to contain his elation at this new development. 

“I take it that you are concerned about me wandering around without a weapon anymore.” Quirrel said in response to the Knight’s previous gesture to the nail slung over their back.

Ghost did not nod nor did they shake their head to confirm his assumption— much to Quirrel’s disappointment— but their stare seemed to become more intense somehow; as if the darkness residing within their hollow eye-sockets subtly shifted in a way that was more felt rather than seen, so he decided to take its continued silence as a yes.

“Ha ha, while I appreciate your concern for my wellbeing, friend, I must point out that Hallownest is much safer now that the pestilence plaguing this place has been eradicated. There is no reason to—” 

_Splash!_

Both Quirrel and Ghost looked up in time to witness little ghost 3 jump off the dock and into the water, no doubt after Tiny, who was also absent from the dock.

Quirrel gasped in horror, swiftly leaping to his feet and dashing over to the edge of the dock where 2 was already bracing to jump into the water as well.

“2, no!” Quirrel shouted, grabbing the small vessel and wrenching them away from the water’s edge. “What are you doing?! You’ll—“ Quirrel interrupted himself as he looked over the edge of the dock, fully expecting to see the two other children already consumed by the water’s depths. “—float?”

Instead, what greeted him was the two nonplussed faces of 3 and Tiny, gazing up at him from where they gently bobbed on the water’s surface with confused and curious gazes. 

“Huh…well would you look at that,” Quirrel mused aloud, his earlier panic replaced with wonderment as he watched the two siblings as they started to playfully splash each other in the water. “How fascinating! I didn’t know you guys could swim.”

It was then that 2 started to struggle in the taller bug’s grasp, obviously eager to join their siblings in the water fight. Quirrel readily complied and knelt down to release the child into the water, watching them as they paddled across the water’s surface with ease.

Most bugs were incapable of swimming due to their exoskeletons weighing them down too much. The only bugs that Quirrel had seen capable of surviving in water was the Durandoos, who were simple walking creatures incased in hard shells, and were often found wading in shallow pools of normally acidic water. But that, as previously stated, was only in shallow pools; not the vast water that was the Blue Lake.  
It was then that Quirrel sensed the presence of the Knight standing beside him, and he glanced down at them only to find them staring up at him in what Quirrel could have sworn had to be amusement; but then again, he could never be sure. 

Quirrel merely huffed with laughter, putting his hands on his hips as he stood.

“Ah, as always, you children never cease to surprise me.”


	2. Big Brother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you wondering about the where-abouts of the big hollow knight in the AU.

“Are you certain that this is a good idea?” Quirrel asked, glancing at the slim, pale figure of Hornet standing beside him at the entrance of a cave where a well spring resided just inside.

Hornet merely nodded, not looking at him. “It would be cruel to keep the truth from them any longer. They deserve to know that our cursed sibling still breathes.”

Quirrel hummed in understanding, he knew how attached Ghost was to the three siblings that they’d found, he could only imagine how it must have felt when the young Knight had to fight the Hollow Knight in order to defeat the Old Light.

Hornet, who was also present during the battle to purge Hallownest of the infection, had thought the Hollow Knight dead after the Radiance was defeated. Ghost had been rendered unconscious; completely drained after the harrowing feat of uniting the Light with the Void, and Hornet—who had been the first to regain consciousness—hadn’t been sure if the larger Vessel was merely in their death throes. The adult Vessel’s body having been hideously burned and twisted by the Old Light’s corroding pestilence.

Yet somehow, despite their grievous wounds, the Hollow Knight still clung to life.

At first, Hornet didn’t want to tell Ghost. The state of the Hollow Knight was so severe that she hadn’t been confident that it would make it. But after several weeks of periodically tending to the larger Vessel whilst it was submerged in the healing bath of the ancient spring, it seemed as though it had stabilized enough that it didn’t look on the brink of death anymore.

“Might I ask why you insisted that I should come along?” Quirrel spoke up, glancing over his shoulder. The gaggle was taking a little longer to catch up, but Quirrel had no doubt they would be here soon enough.

“You and my younger siblings are very close,” Hornet replied after a second of hesitation. “I do not know how they are going to react when they see the state that our eldest sibling is in, and I must confess that I am not good when it comes to dealing with emotions. So I thought it best if you were present to provide them a more reliable figure for moral support.”

Quirrel was honestly surprised by Hornet’s words, and even a little bit flattered that she trusted him more than he had ever dared to expect her to. 

“Well, I shall do my best to offer whatever support I can then.” He finally stated.

It was around this time that the two bugs heard the sound of small feet tapping against stone, soon followed by the emergence of three small figures coming around the bend.

“Over here, friend!” Quirrel called out with a wave, and as the three came closer, he couldn't help but chuckle at the sight.

“Ghost. Are you serious?” Hornet glowered down at her younger sibling, who appeared to be carrying an extra passenger on their back. “You cannot keep coddling the Tiniest. It will never get stronger at this rate if you continue to baby it.”

Low and behold, it seemed as though that at some point Tiny had gotten tired and Ghost had resorted to carrying them piggyback-style the rest of the way to their destination. 

Due to the fact that Tiny was not only the smallest—as their namesake would entail— they were also, predictably, the weakest of the bunch; possessing low stamina and tiring easily. 

Little ghost Two, on the other hand, was the one who was closer to Ghost’s size—due to the length of their horns, giving them the odd resemblance to a rabbit, though ironically, they were much more cautious and slow to react.

Little ghost Three acting as the middle child height-wise with their slightly stockier build and shortly curved horns.

Ghost themselves seemed to have no problem with carrying Tiny on their back, and did not respond to Hornet’s complaint as they made it to the ledge just outside the entrance of the cave where the hot spring was; putting down the Tiniest once they stopped.

Hornet sighed and shook her head, deciding to let it slide for now in favor of addressing the more important matter at hand. Within a blink, Hornet put on her usual no-nonsense demeanor, her face becoming gravely serious and her posture straight and narrow.

“Fellow siblings. You may be wondering why I have brought you here of all places,” Hornet began, the tone of her voice having the desired effect of gathering the attention of the four Vessels and Hornet pointed her nail in the direction of the entrance. “Beyond here lies our birth-cursed sibling, the Hollow Knight.”

That got Ghost’s attention, their hollow gaze intensifying enough that Quirrel was tempted to take a step back from the young Knight. The other three siblings seemed to sense Ghost’s inner turmoil too, as they began to fidget and shift nervously in place; confused and perhaps a bit frightened. 

“The Hollow Knight was thought dead after the defeat of the Radiance. However, it has miraculously survived, but their condition is poor and I was not certain that they would live, up until recently.” Hornet turned to face the entrance once more and soon they all made there way into the cave; Ghost following close on her heels with their three siblings trailing behind and Quirrel taking up the rear.

“I must warn you,” Hornet said as they emerged into the chamber. “Our eldest sibling’s wounds are…not pleasant to look at.”

 _That,_ Quirrel thought to himself, _was an understatement._

Quirrel hadn’t seen the Hollow Knight personally, his only frame of reference being from when he’d journeyed to the City of Tears, where the memorial statue in the center of the city depicted the Pure Vessel surrounded by the three dreamers. He recalled the statue portraying the imposing figure as a noble being of higher power; the savior of Hallownest; a hero of great renown.

What Quirrel saw before them was like something from a horrible nightmare.

The Hollow Knight’s body, resting in a shallow pool of water, was hideously malformed. Its limbs were contorted and twisted like the gnarled branches of a tree, one arm looked as though it had rotten completely off its socket, leaving only pockets of various sickly craters where no doubt had once been home to the orange tumors of the infection. The tattered remains of what must have been a cloak hung limply like forlorn drapes that had been burned by some unholy fire, and because of this, the full severity of the wounds were on sickening display. 

Quirrel couldn’t stop staring, _how could a creature still be breathing when its chest cavity was torn open like that?!_ He could see the thing’s organs pulsating with each labored breath and heartbeat. Quirrel had witness many things, he’d even traversed the distant village of Deepnest, the very home of the beasts; but nothing could prepare him for the outright horror he felt quickly consuming him every second he continued to stare.

Then, Quirrel felt a small hand grasp at his own, and he finally managed to wrench his eyes away from the horrible sight and look down. 

At his side stood Ghost, staring up at him with their void-filled eyes. It was then that Quirrel realized that he had been shaking, but the nothingness that resided within the young Knight’s eyes seemed to gradually swallow up his fear and panic until the taller bug could regain his composure. 

Quirrel blinked and appeared to shake himself; rubbing the side of his head with his other hand as he chuckled nervously. “Ah, my apologies, friend. It seems as though I was the one who needed moral support.”

Ghost merely gave him a gentle pat before returning their gaze on the elephant in the room; it was impossible to tell what they were thinking.

Hornet was eyeing Quirrel bemusedly, while the other three vessels were looking at their mutilated sibling warily; partially hiding behind Ghost as they did so. 

Suddenly, a grating noise filled the room —like the creaking of decaying wood— causing everyone to jump save for Ghost, who stood ever unwavering as always. 

The Hollow Knight had roused from its previously unconscious state; twitching and jerking minutely as its mutated joints popped and cracked in and out of place, the creature emitting a gargled, keening whistle as it leaned upright.

“It appears it has finally taken note of our presence,” Hornet muttered, then she spoke louder, this time addressing the decrepit being. “Be still, Hollow one. It is only me and the others.”

The Hollow Knight angled its visage downwards in the general direction of Hornet’s voice, and Quirrel realized with a gasp that it was blind. He hadn’t noticed it before, on account of being too horrified by the rest of its body, but the old Vessel had silken gauze wrapped around its face; its vision completely blocked out by the bandages as a black, ink-like substance stained the dressing and leaked down its narrow, angular head. Quirrel shuddered to think of what the state of its face must have been in to warrant such heavy bandaging.

Ghost was unfazed by the intimidating figure, which towered nearly ten-times their size, and strode toward the edge of the pool where they stopped, looking up at the larger Vessel intently for a long moment; the three smaller Vessels hanging back uncertainly.

At some point it must have dawned on the young Knight that the Hollow Knight wasn’t even aware that they were standing right in front of them, as Ghost unsheathed their nail and struck the rock beside them with a sharp _ping!_

The Hollow Knight’s head jerked sharply downwards at this, facing the young Knight directly, and Quirrel couldn’t help but hold his breath in anticipation.

After a few tense heartbeats, the Hollow Knight slowly leaned down and Ghost dropped their nail to reach out both hands to hold the sides of their eldest siblings face. As soon as they made contact, it was though the larger Vessel recognized who it was by their touch alone, and their shoulders began to shake.

Seeing this, the Tiniest ghost came forward, Two and Three quickly following suite until they too stood with Ghost; each of them reaching up to touch the cracked surface of their big brother’s face.

Hornet and Quirrel watched on from a respectful distance, witnessing the reunion between once thought lost kin run its course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all can expect each chapter to be very loosely tied together regarding in when they take place. I write each one on a whim, usually when I think of an interesting scenario and am too lazy to draw it out in comic form.


	3. Lessons with Quirrel

“This is a rubix cube,” the intellectual bug proclaimed as he held up what appeared to be some sort of colorful block. “It’s a toy; a puzzle more precisely.”

Before him sat the three Vessels, situated in a sort of semi-circle around a small table inside one of Dirtmouth’s many vacant homes. The three of them merely continued to stare up at Quirrel with blank expressions, clearly not understanding what the older bug meant by _'toy'_ and _'puzzle'_. 

Quirrel couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness at this. These poor children had no idea what a toy was, something that he personally believed every child should be given a chance to experience, as playing was considered healthy for a young bug’s development. 

Quirrel had no idea where he got that tidbit of knowledge from, but decided to chock it up to being linked to his forgotten memories. _Besides,_ he thought to himself, _now’s not the time to dwell on negativities._

Setting the rubix cube on the table, Quirrel crossed his arms and looked at the three children expectantly. “So, who wants to give it a try?”

There was a brief pause, before Tiny perked up. They didn’t raise their hand, rather they just sort of bounced softly in place to indicate their interest.

“Alright, Tiny, you can play with it first.” Quirrel replied with a smile, gently sliding the cube across the table to the Tiniest ghost, who bobbed their head in a way that made their entire body move as well. 

Quirrel found this little quirk of theirs to be both incredibly adorable as well as fascinating at the same time. He had preemptively started taking note of each of the Vessel’s patterns of behavior, including Ghost’s, and had began to become very good at picking up on each Vessel’s quirks.

For instance, when Ghost wanted something, they would stand stock still and stare intently at whatever it was that interested them; it was extremely rare to see them actually point at something, and when they did, it was usually with the point of their nail. 

Little ghost Two also did this, (minus the nail), but they did it in a way that was subtly different from Ghost’s. Two tended to stare whilst inclining their head slightly, sometimes even hovering about the object of interest, or scuffing the ground beneath a foot when indicating something.

Little ghost Three was more similar to the Tiniest in regards to behavior, but instead of bobbing their head, they swayed from side to side; making their cloak billow out with their movements. 

Tiniest ghost was probably the most expressive out of all the Vessels, and perhaps even the most child-like. They tottered around and would sometimes wave their little arms about in excitement, or when they were happy they would do an adorable little dance which involved shuffling in place and doing the head bobbing thing. 

Currently, Quirrel watched in both amusement and intrigue as Tiny poked and prodded at the colorful cube. They seemed to like the different colored sections especially, as they would trace their hand around particular squares of matching colors. However, they didn’t seem to understand that they were suppose to rotate the sections of the cube in order to get the matching colors onto one side, and eventually they seemed to be satisfied with their inspection and passed it off to Three.

Three looked at the cube, looked at Quirrel, then back at the cube and proceeded to slowly grab onto it with both hands before they appeared to almost _draw_ it into themselves; the rubix cube seamlessly disappearing beneath the cloak.

Quirrel was so perplexed by this that for a long moment he just stared critically at Three. There wasn’t even a lump beneath the child’s cloak to indicate that it was just concealed underneath; it was like the cube had simply disappeared form existence. 

Before Quirrel could question the child about the whereabouts of the cube, Three then produced the cube from underneath their cloak, and Quirrel could of sworn he caught a glimpse of the blackness underneath ripple— like a disturbed puddle of water—before once again being covered by the cloak as Three replaced the cube on the table.

Quirrel decided not to comment on this, as he turned to see what Two would do with the cube. 

Two picked the cube up slowly, turning it over in their hands for a long moment, as if getting familiar with the feel of the cube. Then, they realized that the segments of the cube could be moved and began to do just that—much to Quirrel’s delight. It seemed that Two now understood how the rubix cube functioned, and even figured out the purpose of the colored squares as he began to slowly turn particular segments; steadily working out how to get the matching colored squares onto one side.

This proceeded to go on for what felt like hours; Two slowly yet steadily completing one side of the rubix cube, then two....then three...

At some point Ghost had entered the room, closing the door behind them a little harder then necessary, which caused Quirrel to startle awake; realizing with embarrassment that he had actually dozed off whilst watching Two work on the rubix cube. But they were just so slow and methodical about it in a way that Quirrel found peaceful to watch.

Apparently Three and Tiny thought so too, as they were both snoozing soundly; their forms leaning on one another for support with their faces angled downwards, and their cloaks shifting with the rise and fall of their breathing. It was a bit unnerving how, even whilst sleeping, the Vessels eyes remained open; but Quirrel supposed that was because of the nature of their masks, which rendered them incapable of blinking or closing their eyes.

Quirrel was brought out of his musings as he suddenly became aware that Ghost was standing directly beside him and must have been starring at him for quite some time. 

“Ah! Pardon me, I was only thinking about some things,” Quirrel said hastily, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. 

Ghost seemed to be satisfied with his response as they sat down and turned their gaze to their siblings. 

Quirrel did as well, and was surprised to find the Two had successfully solved the rubix cube; all six sides possessing their matching colors. 

“Well done, Two!” Quirrel congratulated them, taking the cube when they handed it over to him. Quirrel looked the cube over in fascination before a thought popped into his head, and he turned to Ghost. “Do you want to have a go at it, friend?” He inquired, holding the cube out to Ghost.

Ghost took the cube, looked at it, then proceeded to do the same strange thing that Quirrel had witnessed Three do. 

Quirrel had thought that it had been his imagination before, but now he was certain that something peculiar was happening when the cube disappeared beneath the Vessel’s cloak.

“Uh, Ghost? What happened to the rubix cube?” 

Ghost produced the cube from underneath their cloak and held it out for Quirrel to see.

“No, I mean, what did you do with it? Just now?” 

Ghost stared at him, not appearing to understand what he meant for a second, before it finally clicked. With one arm, Ghost held up the side of their cloak to reveal the black void that made up their torso, and with the other hand they proceeded to push the rubix cube against the surface of their chest. Quirrel watching in awe as the darkness rippled and absorbed the cube into itself.

“Huh,” was all Quirrel could say, still staring at the spot on Ghost’s chest where the rubix cube had disappeared. “Interesting…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Headcannon is that Vessels have a sort of pocket dimension inside their bodies, since they are created from the Void. It would explain how the Knight is able to carry so many small items around with them, like anything smaller than their body can be put into their inventory. It would also explain how the Knight consumes Isma's tear without actually...y'know...eating it, they _technically_ still consumed it.
> 
> So, what Three and Ghost were doing was pretty much putting the rubix cube into their inventory as their way of inspecting the item.


	4. Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Completely self-indulgent fluffery!

Nothing resided in the Void, only darkness; ever lasting darkness. The Void was always dark, the blackness neverending and forever silent. 

Most would fear such vast nothingness, and perhaps even go mad if they were exposed to the Void for too long.

Yet the Shade found the darkness comforting. The Void was quiet and absolutely still – even peaceful. There were no dreams here to disturb the nothingness.

Or so it thought.

_…kill…_

What was that?

_….KILL…._

There it was again. It didn’t understand.

_Light…Kill…._

What was this? Why did it hurt? It never felt this hurt before…this burning. It hurt.

_Pain…PAIN…_

_No…Voice…_

_CAN’T SCREAM…._

_LIGHT!_

The pain hurt. The pain burned. It hurt, it hurt too much! Make it stop! MAKE IT STOP!—

 

Ghost sat bolt upright, wide awake, breathing heavily and clutching the bedsheets beneath them in a death grip. It took the young Knight a moment to comprehend their surroundings, as for a breif moment they forgot where they were.

Beside them slept the forms of three other Vessels; Two, Three and Tiny. All were blissfully unaware of their elder sibling’s abrupt awakening, as they continued to snore peacefully in their dreamless slumber. Which was how it should be.

Vessels don’t dream. That’s not how they were designed. Vessels were designed to be hollow inside, devoid of will and thought. But such things were difficult to snuff out in living creatures, even ones born from the Void.

Ghost got up, slipping quietly off the bed and landing unsteadily on the floor. It made its way across the room and opened the door, before slipping out silently into the night and closing it behind them. 

Once outside, they found themselves in the centre of Dirtmouth and stood there for a moment. The town was much quieter than normal, on account of it being somewhere around the middle of the night, or incredibly early in the morning.

They felt uncharacteristically fatigued; a sensation that made them feel dazed and disoriented. They paused to lean against a pillar; letting the cool air clear the lingering vestiges of the visions that had tormented it during its sleep, leaving behind a sense of confusion and a strange overwhelming heaviness that made it want to…want to…

“Ghost?”

Their head shot up, and they immediately recognized the figure of Quirrel, who seemed to have just come from across the way. Ghost stared up at the taller bug who seemed to take a step back as soon as it did so, and they noticed that he bore an expression of worry and concern that, at first, Ghost couldn’t comprehend the reason for.

Then they suddenly became aware of the sensation of wetness running down the surface of their mask, and Ghost reached a hand up to touch their face. The hand came back dripping with a black ink-like substance, and as the young Knight stared, they began to feel a sense of concern stir within them as well.

Quirrel watched on as the young Knight continued to stare at the blackness running from their hand, dripping onto the cobblestone ground. Quirrel had never witnessed Ghost cry, and the sight of it before him was startling to say the least. Especially since the young Knight's tears were pitch black.

He was about to inquire about just that, but stopped when he realized that the little Knight had started shaking, still staring at their hand as more black tears began flowing from their eyes. This instantly sent a shot of fear down Quirrel’s shell and he quickly approached his young friend; kneeling down beside them and reaching out a hand to either side of them, as if they might topple over at any moment.

“Ghost, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? Tell me what—“ Quirrel stopped as soon as the last sentence left his mouth. What was he thinking, of course they couldn’t tell him what was wrong! His short friend wasn’t capable of verbal speech, so they couldn’t simply state what was wrong even if they wanted to. 

Quirrel anxiously rubbed the side of his head, he’d have to discern the situation on his own; for all he knew, they could be _bleeding_ from their eyes from some sort of internal injury. He’d never seen a bug cry black ichor after all. But then again, he wasn’t dealing with a normal bug, which made things all the more complicated.

Ghost was breathing heavily, their eyes still focused on their hand as they shakily brought it to their face again, feeling the ink pool and drip around their fingers as their other hand joined the first. The young Knight then began scrubbing and clawing at their own face, as if trying to rid themselves of the black ichor staining their mask.

Quirrel let out a noise of alarm at their actions, and quickly reached out to grab both of the Knight’s hands to stop them; worried that they would end up hurting themselves.

Ghost struggled silently, they were panicking but they couldn’t cry out. Unaware that Quirrel was even present.

What was happening? What were they feeling? They didn’t understand, and this only caused more of the dark liquid to flow from their hollow sockets. They wanted to scream, but they couldn’t. They felt as though they were drowning, like the many infected husks they’d watched drown in the waters of the City of Tears. 

“Please—“ Quirrel tried to calm them, his small friend was unnaturally strong for their size, but he held on. “Ghost, it’s alright, my friend! Please calm down, everything is okay. Hush now…”

After a moment, the young Knight’s struggles finally subsided, their chest heaving. They stared wide eyed up at Quirrel, as if finally seeing him for the first time, and realizing that they’d actually hit Quirrel at some point during their panicked struggling. Quirrel was panting as well, wincing at the darkly colored bruise that was already forming upon his shell where he’d been struck, but luckily nothing had cracked and the damage would likely heal within a few days.

Ghost seemed to freeze up, perhaps in shock at having harmed their friend in their blind panic. They had just hit Quirrel, and that realization was like pouring a bucket of ice water over them, and at that moment they could focus on nothing else. 

A cool breeze blew through the town, and Quirrel shuddered. With a grunt, he pulled himself to his feet before scooping up the young Knight in his arms. The young Knight making no protest as he did so. 

“Well then,” Quirrel tried to keep his tone light, but it felt slightly forced. “I think it’s best we head inside, it’s getting rather cold out here.”

Ghost didn’t respond, hanging limply in the taller bug’s arms, black liquid still leaking from their eyes and dripping down Quirrel’s shoulder. But he didn’t seem to care as he brought them into one of the many vacated houses where he himself had taken up temporary residence.

Once inside, Quirrel placed the young Knight on the bed, where they obediently sat with a blank expression; their face angled towards the floor in an almost forlorn manner. 

Quirrel took a moment to whip up a quick healing pultace out of some herbs to administer onto the bruise on his shell, before retreiving a hankercheif and returning to the bedside.

Gently, he began to wipe away the black tear stains on Ghost’s face, taking care to clean off the stains on their cloak as well. But despite his efforts, more black tears merely formed at the corners of the young Vessel’s eyes to create fresh new stains.

Quirrel felt a pang of sadness stab at his heart, the sight of the usually stoic little warrior in such a depressing state made _him_ want to cry. Carefully, he set the rag aside and sat on the bed beside the young Knight, wrapping their small frame in an embrace that he hoped was comforting. 

Ghost stilled, looking up at the taller bug. The feeling of being hugged was foriegn to them, but not unwelcomed. Before the young Knight realized it, they were returning the embrace as well, clinging onto Quirrel like their life depended on it. Which was silly, because when had they ever depended on anything other than the sharpness of the nail they weilded? 

“What’s the matter, my friend?” Quirrel said softly, holding them closer. “Why are you crying?” 

Crying? Was that what was happening? They had never cried before, the concept was alien to them. Bugs cried when they felt great sadness. Was Ghost sad? They weren’t sure…

Perhaps there really was something wrong with the young Vessel.

 _Am I broken?_ Was what they wanted to ask Quirrel, but couldn’t on account of simply being physically incapable of verbal communication.

Perhaps they’d always been broken; they were thrown away and abandoned for being imperfect just like the others after all. 

Ghost had never felt fear, not when they fought the Hollow Knight, not when they challenged the Radiance. They had always stood unwavering in the face of danger, never faultering. Fighting came easily to them, cutting down foe after foe even more so. Nothing could hurt them, the blows of their enemies were nothing but a vague annoyance to the little Knight. It didn’t matter if they carved a path of death through the passeges of Hallownest, they were a Vessel answering the cry of distress from the failing Hollow Knight as the Radiance’s pestillence leaked from the Vault meant to seal it away. 

But the pestillence was gone now. The Radiance having been snuffed out by the Void. What purpose did the little Knight have now? There was nothing left to fight. So, why did it hurt so much? Everything should be fine now. Right?

“Small friend,” Quirrel softly spoke up, drawing the young Knight from their dark thoughts. “I admit that although I’m uncertain as to what has caused you such distress, I hope that you know that if you ever need anything, that I’m here and willing to help in any way I can.”

Ghost shook, lacking the proper emotional cognition to appropriatly respond to this open gesture of compassion. The black tears continued to flow freely down their visage as they allowed themselves to be held by Quirrel.

At some point, the young Knight had drifted off to sleep, and this time, their sleep remained devoid of fretful dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;u;


	5. Tears

Quirrel was worried. More specifically, Quirrel was worried about Ghost. 

Right now the older bug was seated on the bench situated in the faded town of Dirtmouth, quietly observing the four Vessels, who were currently occupying a small clear patch of ground not far off. 

Three of them—that being Two, Three and Tiny— were playing with pebbles. Not exactly playing a game in particular it seemed, but rather simply sifting through the small stones with their hands and making small piles out of them. But they were still participating in an activity together, and that’s what mattered.

Ghost, on the other hand, wasn’t participating. Instead, they were standing just adjacent to their three younger siblings; silent and motionless like a stone statue. The only movement from the Knight being the edges of their cloak gently fluttering in the wind. It was as if they were acting as a look-out, staring outwards at the surrounding landscape for any sign of danger; like a vigilant guardian.

Quirrel knew how dedicated Ghost was about watching out for their siblings—and he admired the young Knight for it, but he worried about who was watching out for Ghost. They were still a child after all, granted, a powerful and incredibly deadly child born under unfavorable circumstances, but a child none-the-less. 

Quirrel did not know what guided the Knight; it didn’t have to do the things it did to save a world that sought to leave it and thousands of others like it to die. 

Hornet had speculated that perhaps it was just doing what it was originally created to do, just in a more permanent fashion, but even she doubted her own theory. She had watched the Knight on its journeys; watched as it listen intently to other bugs, make allies and help others. That certainly wasn’t the behavior of a single-minded automaton.

Whatever Ghost’s reason’s were, Quirrel wished they could realize that there was no danger anymore; at least not the same level of danger that used to be present. Quirrel remembered back when him and the Knight first met that they were always running off from place to place, only stopping to rest before heading off again in pursuit of something deeper within the ruins. 

But nowadays they seemed almost unnaturally tense, always standing around silently, watching, waiting for something—or anything to happen.

Quirrel wondered if the lack of anything to fight was putting the little Knight on edge; he’d seen them occasionally scraping at the ground with the point of their nail, as if they were restless or agitated.

Maybe that’s why Ghost so fiercely watched over their kin. Now that the young Knight’s quest to rid Hallownest of the infection for good was complete, they no longer knew what to do with themselves.

What did one do, when they had needed to fight and kill all their life, then suddenly found that there was no longer anything that needed to be fought or killed?

 

Quirrel was brought out of his train of thought when Ghost suddenly shifted and looked over their shoulder at him, apparently sensing his stare and returning it evenly.

Whenever the Knight focussed their hollow gaze on him, Quirrel always felt a strange sort of chill run down his shell — not of fear or anything really, just a chill. Perhaps a lesser bug would feel fear or ill-at-ease when subjected to that penetrating stare. It was like the stare of a hunter, a stare that sought out and probed at in an effort to understand; to comprehend and identify that which it targeted. 

Quirrel blinked, Ghost was still staring at him, as if waiting for the other bug to try something. Oddly enough, Quirrel got the disturbing impression that the void within those eyes was _daring_ him to do something.

That was not good. 

In response, Quirrel opted to giving the Knight a little friendly wave; trying to dissipate the sudden tension that had formed. 

For a moment, Ghost seemed startled; caught off gaurd and appearing to be at a loss as to how it should respond, which Quirrel found slightly amusing that something as mundane as a wave could throw-off the steadfast Knight. 

However, Ghost seemed to recover from their initial confusion, and with calculated slowness, they lifted their own hand and waved back. Their movements were awkward, almost in an uncertain manner, like they weren’t used to making the gesture. 

When Quirrel smiled back in response, they stiffly turned back to watch over their siblings once more.

Quirrel sighed, worry once again creasing his features. He wondered whether he should get up and do something more productive or stew a little longer in his thoughts, when he suddenly heard the sound of a nail striking rock and turned to see Hornet climbing out of the Well leading to the Crossroads.

The scarlet cloaked figure plucked her nail from where it had acted as an anchor in her ascent, and strode calmly into the town of Dirtmouth. 

It wasn’t long until she spotted Quirrel seated on a bench, and stopped to exchange pleasantries with him.

“Greetings, Quirrel,” Hornet nodded to him in acknowledgement as she paused beside the bench.

“Hello there, Hornet,” Quirrel returned the nod in kind, scooting over politely to allow Hornet space to sit if she so desired. “How are diplomatic relations with the Hive going?”

Hornet accepted the invitation to sit, allowing herself a moment to rest whilst she responded with a general summery of recent events. “The negotiations with Queen Vespa and her like are going as well as one could expect from bugs who’ve refused to communicate with any outsiders for over a millennia.” —she let her gaze turn to her younger siblings, lingering particularly on Ghost— “For years I thought that just getting into the Hive was impossible, but apparently at some point, the little Ghost had managed to infiltrate the place and open up several holes in the Hive’s walls that the Hivelings have yet to fully repair. So I was able to get in easily enough. Of course, the residences were not too pleased with my entering of their domain.”

Quirrel gave a nod in response.“Ah, yes. Despite the sweetness of the Hive’s honey, they certainly are quite the stingy bunch.” He chuckled.

Ghost apparently sensed that they were being stared at again, and looked over their shoulder and stared at Hornet. 

Hornet stared back. 

Ghost then surprised Hornet by lifting an arm and waving at her. 

Quirrel couldn’t help himself, and broke out into loud guffas of laughter at Hornet’s nonplussed expression. She shot him a sharp look; not understanding what he found so amusing.

The three other siblings looked up from their playing to see what the comotion was about; evidently intrigued by the sound of Quirrel’s laughter.

When they saw Ghost waving at Hornet, the three Vessels began waving as well. They didn’t really know why or for what reason, but it looked fun, and it was making Quirrel laugh even harder.

Hornet was flustered by the whole ordeal, and in a vain attempt to get Quirrel to cease his bout of hysteria she lifted a hand and waved back awkwardly at her siblings, hoping that now that she’d returned their gesture they would return to whatever it was they had been doing prior.

It seemed to work, as the siblings appeared to be satisfied and went back to playing with their pebbles, with Ghost returning to his watch. Only then did Quirrel’s laughter subsided enough to allow him to catch his breath.

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to seem as though I was making fun of you,” he apologized once he regained his composure. But Hornet didn’t seem to be listening.

“I have never seen them wave at anyone before,” she spoke quietly, not taking her eyes off Ghost. “I see that they are becoming more responsive with displaying outward emotion.”

“Yes, they have, haven’t they?” Quirrel replied. He recalled the incident that had occurred less than a week ago, how he had found the young Knight outside in the middle of the night, crying. It was the first time Quirrel had ever seen Ghost display such emotion, which both intrigued and worried him. 

Ghost’s reaction to their tears had also concerned Quirrel greatly. It was like the poor child didn’t know what crying was; what being sad was.  
“Which brings me to something concerning them, I’ve been keeping a close eye on our young friend, and I think that they may be becoming… well…restless, as of late.”

“Restless?” Hornet narrowed her eyes. “Restless how?”

Quirrel paused, trying to figure out the best way to explain. “They seem almost like they are upset by something. I think that now that the pestilence has been eradicated, they no longer have anything to fight, and as a result they have become more prone to—“

“They haven’t attacked anyone have they?” Hornet hissed in sudden alarm, but Quirrel waved a calming hand to dissuade her.

“No, no, they haven’t. I trust that they posses more self-control than that, they’d never allow themselves to do such a thing.” Quirrel insisted, though Hornet seemed skeptical about that, but she remained silent. “I’ve just noticed that their eyes are becoming…uh… more intense lately?”

Hornet squinted at him. “Their…eyes?”

Quirrel nodded. “Yes, I don’t know how to describe it precisely. I’d almost say the look in their eyes can be akin to a glare at times lately. Their movements are more sharp and they seem uncharacteristically jumpy. Ghost has quite the stare, do they not? Surely you must have noticed.”

Hornet considered this for a moment, before shaking her head. “I do suppose that its gaze can be rather disconcerting at times, yes. But I never considered it to be anything but expected for its like.”

“The others do not posses such a stare.” Quirrel pointed out bluntly.

Hornet said nothing, and for a long moment the two of them watched the four Vessels from afar in silence. 

It was true, the three young Vessels that Ghost had rescued from the depths of Hallownest did posses a sort of spark in their eyes that the other sibling lacked—which was most likely why they were deemed as failures in the eyes of the Pale King; for lacking that absolute emptiness that was necessary to contain the Radiance.

Ghost was also deemed as imperfect, and yet they were probably just as hollow as the Pure Vessel was, if not more. Yet even so, Hornet caught glimpses of the young Knight’s underlying personality, despite how easily it was hidden behind their expressionless mask. 

There was an air of determination about them, and a inclination towards using their nail to do the talking in the absence words. But they were also innately curious; exploring the vast depths of Hallownest in search for answers, and intently listening to the words spoken by the few friendly inhabitants that remained in the ruins. It was as though the young Knight wanted to understand -–not just about their past, but also understand the world that they had been born into; to simply understand the ‘what’ and the ‘why’ of it all.

However, there was also anger within the young Knight. Anger that, when in motion, cut a path of retribution and death in its wake. 

Hornet’s eyes narrowed, and she found herself thinking dark thoughts about what this could mean for Ghost. Could it be that, in the rise of this new era of peace, they were becoming unstable?

“Do Vessels weep?” Quirrel suddenly asked out of nowhere.

Hornet jerked her head up. “What?”

“The Vessels, do they weep?” Quirrel repeated, his eyes watching Hornet’s face intently.

Hornet slowly shook her head, confused. “I do not believe they are able to, no. The Pale King created the Vessels with the intention of them possesing no voice to cry suffering. I would think that would include wiping out the ability to shed tears. Why?”

“Well…” Quirrel hesitated a moment, unsure if it would be appropriate to share this with Hornet, as Ghost had been in quite a fragile state and may not want anyone to know about what had happened. 

But Quirrel had to know if the black tears were something to be worried about, and there was no one left alive that could possibly answer his questions about the Vessels other than Hornet. 

“A couple nights ago, I found Ghost outside crying, crying black tears.”

Hornet said nothing, her face suddenly devoid of expression as she stared at Quirrel.

Feeling a bit unnerved by her silence, Quirrel continued: “They seemed to be quite shaken by something. I’m not sure what. But when I asked why they were crying, they started clawing at their face. I tried to stop them, but they started panicking and I decided to bring them inside to see if I could calm them down somehow.” Quirrel didn’t mention how Ghost had injured Quirrel during their panic. It wasn’t their fault, and Quirrel didn’t want to alarm Hornet.

“They eventually fell asleep, and woke up before noon to return to their siblings’ bedside.” He finished.

Hornet still did not respond, she appeared to be deep in thought, but Quirrel couldn’t for the life of him tell what she was thinking. 

“Little Ghost had…wept.” Hornet stated aloud, as if the very sentence was unbelievable. 

Hornet recalled a distant memory of when she was a youngling, she remembered that there were times when she had cried in the instances she had been scared. She had been able to shed tears then, and when she did, she recalled that the weavers caring for her at the time had been utterly baffled by the sight of her eyes leaking black substance. 

Usually the only time when a bug was seen crying black tears was when their corpse’s eyes had liquified as they decayed, the old blood leaking out of their sockets like tears.

Later in life, Hornet had come to learn that, in Deepnest, shedding tears was abnormal for bugs. They mourned and moaned in despair, but to shed liquid from their eyes? That trait had been something the Pale King’s gift of sapience had granted the bugs of Hallownest. The ability to think with higher thoughts; to feel complex emotions that were far beyond the baser instincts that Radiance had bestowed upon them.

The creatures of Deepnest, of course, had rejected the Pale King’s rule. So it was no surprise that tears would be alien to them.

It was ironic how the King had tried to rip out the ability to express such emotions from the Vessels. Hornet supposed that was part of the point of doing so, but obviously the King had failed in that regard.

“What do you suggest should be done then?” Hornet finally asked, stirring herself from her reminiscing.

“I was hoping that _you_ would know,” Quirrel responded incredulously, quirking a brow at her. “I’m assuming that the black tears are something to be concerned about then?”

“Yes,” Hornet replied, looking back at Ghost still standing watch over their siblings. “And no. I myself had a similar quirk when I was younger, since I was conceived from the dalliance between Herrah the Beast and the Pale King, I too cried tears of void as a child, especially whilst growing up.”

“Hm, interesting.” Quirrel replied, thinking out loud for a moment. “You say that you cried especially when you were growing up.” —He didn’t wait for Hornet to respond—“So perhaps Ghost becoming more emotional is a sign of…” His eyes suddenly widen with realization and he looked up at Hornet.

Hornet looked back at him, her expression grim.

“ _Puberty._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what.


	6. Growing Through the Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More tears! More angst! More fluff!

“This is ridiculous,” Hornet grumbled to herself as she yanked the sewing needle out of the fabric, pulling the thread taught before furiously stitching along the seams. “Of all the things that could have happened, THIS had to happen!” 

Behind her, a noise that was somewhere between a gurgle and a hollow whistle was the only reply Hornet got. The looming form of the Hollow one sat cross-legged nearby, looking much better than it had in the previous visits; though it still possessed a blindfold to protect its damaged eyes. Hornet doubted that the adult Vessel would ever regain its sight again, but it didn’t seem to mind all that much.

With a huff, Hornet looked over her shoulder at the Hollow one and squinted. “What about you? Unlike the rest of your kind, _you_ actually went through the process of growing up before being sealed away in a blackened tomb.” It was true, the Hollow Knight was the only adult Vessel in existence, and probably had more knowledge of what maturing into adulthood was like for a Vessel.

But big brother Hollow merely cocked its head at Hornet, emitting another garbling warble. She dearly hoped that the sounds it was making was just a result of the air passing through its mutilated esophagus; the thought of the little Ghost possibly making those noises as they matured was horrifying. 

She sighed, finishing up the last of the stitches and holding up the final product in front of her. It was a simple quilt, nothing too special; she honestly didn’t know why she had decided to sew one. She supposed she had merely wanted something to do whilst conversing with Hollow. Albeit it being a mostly one-sided conversation. But she had already talked to Quirrel about the subject of Ghost, but the simple bug was just as stumped as she was on the matter. 

_“Perhaps we shouldn’t do anything,” Quirrel had suggested. “Maybe it’s best to wait for now, see what happens first.”_

Hornet huffed, she disliked the thought of simply waiting around until something happened, but what else could she do? She knew Quirrel was right, there was nothing they could do but wait and see. Though it didn’t do anything to lessen her worries. She just couldn’t help but agonize over the possible ways of which a Vessel could reach adulthood. Would Ghost simply start growing taller as time went on? Would their restlessness increase? Or what if Vessels went through metamorphosis like Moths and Butterflies did?--No, surely not, that idea was absurd. From what Hornet had learned, Moths were born as caterpillars before transforming into their adult form, and the Vessels certainly didn’t posses any indicators that they had begun life as soft-bellied grubs.

However...although she wasn’t one who liked physical contact, and rarely ever held any of her younger siblings, she did recall in the past where she had to grab Ghost in order to rescue them from the collapsing Cast-off shell, and distinctly remembered that the young Knight’s body--while heavier than she had expected them to be-- was also softer than a bug’s shell should have been. Which was an enigma in it of itself, as she had certainly struck the young Knight with her needle hard enough to have flayed a shell that soft to bits! But it would seem as though the Void which made up the Vessel’s body was much more resilient than it seemed, that and the fact that Ghost possessed the unique ability to heal themselves with SOUL.

Hornet shook her head, she had zoned out again, and glanced up at the Hollow one on impulse. But it seemed that it too had gotten lost within its own reminiscing, as it sat quietly with its head tilted downwards until it nearly rested upon its chest, its breaths coming in slow rasping intakes of air. If one ignored the grievous wounds and the occasional visible organ pulsing beneath the tatters of its cloak, the Hollow Knight looked almost peaceful. 

In fact, Hornet was pretty sure that the large Vessel had fallen asleep. Typical. 

Quietly, Hornet stood up and laid the newly sewn quilt atop the Hollow one’s form. The blanket barely covered half of the Vessel’s body, but it seemed to bring comfort to it by the sound of its breathing becoming more at ease and less raspy. Or maybe that was just because the blanket was covering the gaping holes in its ribcage, it was hard to tell.

With a gentle pat on her big brother’s shoulder, Hornet retrieved her nail and silently made her leave from the Hollow one’s cave and out into the open caverns of the Crossroads. 

She’d have to remind herself to go visit the Shaman later; though the Hollow Knight’s wounds weren’t as bad as they had been, they weren’t getting any better, and the old snail was the only bug nearby who had any knowledge of how to heal. Her and possibly the charm-loving slug in the abandoned village below, but Hornet was not keen on asking _her_ for advice. 

She would never dare admit it out loud, but Madam Salubra made Hornet distinctly uncomfortable and weirdly itchy. 

As Hornet eventually made her way back up to the surface where the town of Dirtmouth lay--hoisting herself out of the Well with ease-- she caught sight of something that, for a moment, froze her in place from the sheer bewilderment of what she was seeing. 

On the outskirts of town, Quirrel was facing Ghost off in a duel. The scholarly bug had a nail in one hand that looked as though it likely came from Sly’s shop, and was deftly parrying the powerful swings of the young Knight’s pure nail.

Hornet could only stare as she watched the scene before her. She thought that the old bug had retired from the life of wielding a weapon in favor of a more pacifistic life-style, and couldn’t for the life of her make heads-or-tails as to why Quirrel had decided to take up a nail now. Not only that, but why was he sparring against _Ghost_ of all creatures? Quirrel could barely hold his own in a fight against _her_ , and that had been when he had possessed the enchanted Mask of Monomon to protect him, and Ghost was far stronger than Hornet. 

Quickly shaking off her initial shock, Hornet shot her nail towards the two sparring individuals, her nail imbedding itself in the ground between the them as she used the connected thread to zip forward until she now stood in between them.

“Care to explain what exactly you two are doing?” Hornet demanded with a sharp glare particularly aimed at Quirrel, who she noted was breathing heavily and swaying slightly. His shell was certainly scuffed in places. When she glanced at Ghost, she was surprised to see that the young Knight also seemed to be out of breath, their grip on their nail visibly shaking.

“Hello-- Hornet,” Quirrel responded between breaths. “Nice of you--to drop by. We-- that is to say, Ghost--and I-- were just in the process of trying a--new activity. Heh, I am not as young as I used to be.” He said this way too flippantly to Hornet's liking, as he rolled his shoulders in an attempt to lessen the stiffness in his joints. She could tell from the shaky way the bug smiled that he was trying to hide something. 

“Oh really?” Hornet said skeptically, her eyes narrowing a fraction.

“Uh-huh, just keeping our skills honed!”

“Quirrel, you are a terrible liar. You resigned from using a nail ages ago. What could've possibly given you a reason to take up arms now?”

Quirrel shifted awkwardly, he should have known that Hornet was too perceptive to buy his pathetic attempts at lies. With a sigh of acceptance, he stuck the nail into the ground before him, resting both hands on it like one would a walking stick or cane. “Well, it’s a funny story...”

***

About an hour or two ago, Quirrel had been busying himself with carrying a heap of scrolls and tablets out of Dirtmouth’s stag-station. 

After having managed to salvage some of the ancient records in certain parts of the City, he was eager to transport them back to the surface where it would be safer to study them--as well as much drier. 

Not far behind, three young Vessels trailed after him, each carrying similar stacks of texts and records.

Quirrel had originally planned on going alone-- with only the Old Stag to aid him in transporting the goods, but before he’d so much as opened the door, Two; Three; and Tiny had rushed to follow after him. Evidently the children had become bored of playing around the cottage, and Ghost at the time had appeared to have fallen asleep whilst watching them at some point. 

Quirrel could see the looks in their eyes; the poor things wanted to go out on an adventure. It was a look he knew all too well.

So, Quirrel ended up bringing the three children along with him, and they seemed eager to help the old bug with carrying the old records, if only so they could have something to do. 

Now they were heading over to Sly’s place. Quirrel knew the fly merchant had a large storage area underneath his seemingly small home, and Sly had agreed to allow Quirrel to use the space--at the simple price of 700 geo per month, of course. 

The fly played a hard bargain, but at least Ghost was more then willing to pay rent. Quirrel still had no idea how the little Knight managed to accumulate so much geo...

As Quirrel and the gaggle made their way toward’s Sly’s store, Quirrel suddenly felt a strange chill run up the back of his shell, to which he paused and looked around.

“Huh…” He mused, finding the sensation familiar yet he couldn’t quite figure out why. 

Then it hit him. Literally. 

One moment Quirrel was standing in front of Sly’s shop with the gaggle not far behind, then the next moment he found himself on the ground, the stone tablets he’d been carrying clattered to the ground as they slipped from his grasp. He distantly hoped that the old things hadn’t been damaged.

However, not so distantly, he noted that Ghost was now standing atop him, their nail poised and their body heaving with silent rage. Quirrel blinked, still slightly dazed and incredibly concerned. “Ghost? What is--”

Quirrel was shocked into silence as he watched the young Knight swing their nail, making two sharp swipes to one side. Quirrel thought it almost looked as though Ghost was angrily gesturing. And perhaps the little Knight was. 

Quirrel moved to sit up properly, and the Ghost stepped off his chest, still gesturing furiously with angry swipes of their nail, making sharp _swish-swish-swishes_ as the blade cut through the air. Quirrel watched the whole time, studying the Knight’s movements as he slowly stood up.

The little Ghost kept their eyes fixed on Quirrel as the swept their nail horizontally, jabbing in the direction of the terribly confused gaggle before whipping back to jab at Quirrel, doing this several times before finally straightening up with a determined stomp and drawing their nail to a point by their side. _Challenge._  
“Wait, what--” Quirrel held his hands up as if to some how placate the Knight. Things were escalating way to quickly, and Quirrel’s brain had yet to catch up. “Hold on a moment! Ghost, what has gotten you so upset? And why on earth did you think it warranted tackling me? You made me drop all these ancient records!” 

Quirrel was honestly a little bit peeved at that, but his concern for the little Ghost overrode any anger he could have had. Ghost was his friend, and he must have done something wrong to get the little Knight so upset. After all, Ghost was a Vessel and thus did not posses a voice to simply “use their words” to express how they were feeling, and it was reasonable to assume that they would find other ways to communicate. Ghost’s way, apparently, was through fighting. 

Ghost stomped again, set on challenging Quirrel to a duel. 

Quirrel finally dropped his arms to his sides, staring down critically at Ghost. “I don’t want to fight you, my friend.” 

Ghost’s grip on their nail trembled, but their stance held firm. _Challenge. Fight._ The young Knight knew no other way. 

\---

“...So after ushering the children off to put the records down in Sly’s storage, I borrowed a nail from Sly and that is how we got to where we are now.” Quirrel finished, feeling as though a weight had been lifted from him, but simultaneously feeling a sense of dread whilst he anticipated Hornet’s reaction. "On hindsight, I probably should have left a note before absconding with the three children." He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. It was the only rational explanation he could come up with to explain Ghost's outburst; the young Knight must have awoken from their nap and had been distraught to find that their siblings were nowhere to be found. Quirrel felt his gut twist with guilt. Ghost must have been so distressed.

Hornet kept her expression almost perfectly schooled throughout the entire explanation, the only exception being the slight narrowing of her eyes when Quirrel got to the part where Ghost had attacked him. 

She stood silently, carefully considering what was to be done about this recent outburst. Such behavior could not go unchecked, and as the Protector of Hallownest, Hornet was not going to tolerate an out of control Vessel. Especially one as dangerous as the little Ghost.

She glanced over to Ghost, intent on giving them the sternest lecture of a lifetime, but her words were instantly forgotten as soon as she laid eyes on them. 

Quirrel knew something was wrong as soon as he saw Hornet freeze up and looked past her to see what had caught her attention. He quickly realized what that was, and his heart sank.

The young Knight was visibly trembling, their void-filled eyes appeared to stare blankly at the middle distance, dark rivulets trailed down their mask’s surface. They were crying, their small frame jerking erratically with the force of their sobs. And they didn’t make a single sound. No voice to cry suffering. It broke Quirrel’s heart.

Ghost’s legs suddenly gave out, and Hornet impulsively reached out to catch them, holding her smaller sibling as they silently wept into her crimson cloak, staining it no doubt. She didn’t speak, she just numbly held them.

Hornet was at a complete loss as to what she should do in this situation; she wasn’t sure how to comfort someone who was in pain, it wasn’t something she’d ever needed to learn. She didn’t know what to do. 

Luckily, Quirrel was there to help. 

The older bug crouched down beside them, gently patting the little Ghost’s back and mumbling small reassurances to the distraught Vessel. “Hey now, it’s alright. You’re okay. Everything’s fine, my friend...hush now...” Then looking to Hornet: “We best return to town; the other children will be waiting for us.”

Hornet only nodded in response, and moved as if to pass her sibling to Quirrel for him to carry, but was surprised when Ghost only clung tighter to her cloak; burying their face into the fabric and probably smearing even more inky stains all over it. Perhaps they felt too afraid to let go, or maybe they had simply needed to feel the familiarity of another being made of Void. 

Maybe they just wanted their big sister to hold them a little longer...


	7. Intermission: Visiting an Old Teacher

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dedicate this chapter to Brackets002 for not only giving me the idea, but also leaving some lovely comments in the last chapter! THIS IS FOR YOU, BRACKETS! OuO)/~*~*

From atop a steep rocky cliff, a void black hand reached up and caught the edge of the ledge, before hoisting the rest of their body over the lip. Tiny looked tired from the climb, but at least they weren’t making this journey by themselves.

Another hand—this hand belonging to the vessel’s elder sibling, Ghost—reached down to help the other vessel up. Behind Ghost, Two and Three were waiting patiently for the smallest sibling to catch up.

Tiny secretly wished Ghost would just carry them the rest of the way, but their sibling had refused whenever Tiny stopped and acted as though they couldn’t go any further. Tiny had been very miffed when their attempts to catch a ride were ignored, but had reluctantly forced themselves to walk like the rest of their siblings.

The smallest vessel didn’t even know where they were going, or why they had to climb up such a perilous ridge in order to get there. But Ghost seemed adamant on bringing their three siblings along.

Whatever Ghost wanted their younger siblings to see so badly, Tiny hoped that it was worth the long trek.

Upon reaching the apex of the rocky mountain, the way forward looked much easier, the ground dipping downwards and giving the vessels a good view of what was to come next.

Ghost spotted a few creatures skittering about, and motioned the three youngsters to stay put whilst they went to go deal with them. It wouldn’t take long.

A few vengefly carcasses later and the path was cleared. The three vessels having regained most of their strength at that point, hurried down the rocky path until coming up to a point where the ground suddenly dropped into a ravine.

The three siblings stared cluelessly at one another, wondering what Ghost was playing at, before realizing that the older sibling had already dropped down into the ravine with ease and was now looking up at them expectantly.

After a few seconds of hesitation, Tiny was the first to jump—landing gracelessly on their tush before scampering to stand beside Ghost as their other siblings quickly followed. Three landing with a heavy thud, and Two landing soon after with similar inelegance. 

They didn’t stand idle for long, as Ghost was swift to lead them down a narrow tunnel that had been hidden along wall of the ravine. It looked rather dark and foreboding, and even had the remains of a husk adorning the entrance, but Tiny and the others followed Ghost anyways; trusting that the more experienced sibling knew what they were doing.

Eventually the tunnel opened up to reveal the face of a hut of sorts, the entrance of which bore a light from somewhere within. Were they going to meet somebody?

Ghost strode forward with the confidence of someone who had already been to this place, beckoning the three siblings to follow as they entered the dwelling. Inside, they passed through a short corridor with a bench to the side, before finally entering the sanctuary proper.

“Ah, my pupil! You have come to visit your old master!” The boisterous voice of a large bug boomed, causing Two and Three to stop in their tracks whilst Tiny scrambled for cover behind them. 

Ghost appeared undeterred and walked right up to the enormous red beetle and bowed respectfully before him.

“Now, now, no need to bow, my child! You’ve already honored me more than I deserve by coming all this way to visit your ol’ teacher. And what’s this?—You’ve brought company with you as well!” It hadn’t taken the Nailmaster Mato long to notice the presence of the three little children standing by the front door, and he beckoned them to come forward. “Ah, welcome, welcome! Please, come sit! You all must’ve travelled far in order to reach this place.”

The gaggle hesitantly came forward to stand in front of Mato, staring up at him with wide eyes as they marveled at how huge the Nailmaster was. Granted, Nailmaster Mato was nowhere nearly as tall as the Hollow Knight, but Mato still possessed an immense aura about him that made him just as awesome and impressive.

Mato looked over the three vessels before him, a knowing smile appearing in his eyes. “Aha! I see now, the bonds between siblings is unmistakable! Am I right to assume that these must be your kin, my pupil? Do they too wish to learn the ways of the Nail Art?”

Tiny and the others shot each other confused looks. Did they? None of them were all that good at wielding a nail, that was for sure. But they’d never needed to learn how to defend themselves with Ghost around, so they weren’t entirely sure how they felt about the subject. 

Their hesitance didn’t seem to bother Mato in the slightest.

For the next hour or so, Nailmaster Mato proceeded to tutor the three vessels, every once and a while having Ghost help in demonstrating what a proper Cyclone Slash looked like when mastered. 

Tiny and Two tried their best to emulate the masters’ movements, using wooden nails crudely cut from shellwood, but only Three seemed to be having any luck with it. The tubby Vessel was no where near as good as Ghost or Mato, but at least Three managed to execute the spin without becoming horribly dizzy afterwards.

All of them ended up sprawled on the floor in the end, exhausted and thoroughly dizzied-out. It wasn’t along until the gaggle eventually dozed off, leaving Mato and Ghost to sit together and meditate.

Ghost, however, was strangely having trouble meditating. Which was odd, because usually Ghost was the pinnacle of stoicism and calm demeanors. This fact made the young Knight even more agitated; they hadn’t been feeling like themselves as of late. They hadn’t been since they defeated the Radiance.   
Mato seemed to sense the young Knight’s turmoil, as he looked up from under his red headband and glanced over to where his pupil sat fidgeting.

“You seem disquieted, my pupil. Is there something troubling you?” Mato inquired gently.

Ghost became still, only the slight tilt of their head in the Nailmaster’s direction giving any indication that they had heard him at all. 

Mato breathed a mirthless chuckle. “Ah, you don’t need to speak a word, my child. I can already see it in your eyes. Your determination is like no other, and you’ve no doubt accomplished many feats since we’ve last met, but now you face something that is unlike any foe you’ve ever encountered!”

Ghost stared up at Mato, evidently astonished by how perceptive the lively Nailmaster was. Mato probably rivaled Quirrel in how well he could read the habitually unreadable.

“Do not fret, my child.” Mato continued, winking conspiratorially. “The path ahead into the unknown is treacherous, but I am confident that you will overcome this new hurdle.” Mato then did something that surprised Ghost further, and patted the young Knight on the head — like one would when tussling a youth’s hair. 

If the Vessel could, they would have smiled a little, as both them and Nailmaster Mato returned to their meditating. The sound of soft snores filling the silence with a sense of peace for the time being.


	8. Three Billy-Ghosts Grimm

After their pleasant visit to Nailmaster Mato’s, the Tiniest ghost wanted to explore the Howling cliffs, apparently feeling full of energy after the long nap they had.

Ghost had looked as though they’d wanted to object to their sibling’s curiousity, but before they could, the three little Vessels had already scampered on ahead. So, Ghost had little choice but to follow them and make sure they didn’t get into trouble.

Unfortunately, trouble the gaggle did find along the craggy cliffface, as Three had inadvertantly discovered a part of the rock that was loose— and after getting the attention of all their siblings, Ghost used their nail to strike the stone wall until it crumbled and gave way to a dark tunnel.

As the gaggle peered into the newly made hole, a cold breeze blew from the depths with an ominous howl, and they quickly scurried away from the entrance to hide behind their elder sibling. 

Ghost however, wasn’t afraid, and was in fact incredibly curious now. The urge to explore winning over as they stepped into the depths of the tunnel, the gaggle following close on their heels out of fear of being left behind.

The tunnel soon opened up into a large chamber. Unlit metal torches lay leaning against the cave walls, and strewn about the floor. In the center of the room was what appeared to be a podium of sorts. The place looked ancient, like it hadn't been touched for decades.

Ghost moved closer to the podium, placing a void-black hand atop it and tracing over the foreign symbols carved onto its surface. What was it? Who made it? What purpose did it serve, if any?   
Ghost’s musings were interrupted when they caught movement at the corner of their version, and when they looked up, they realized it was only Two who had moved beside them to look at the podium as well. 

Ghost was then suddenly reminded that, oh yeah, their siblings were here with them, and glanced about to check on the others.   
Three was standing idly by one of the metal torches, probably wondering if it would fit into their inventory despite the fact that it was clearly way bigger than they were. And as for Tiny…Wait—

Ghost looked around the room, hoping to find the Tiny Vessel just milling about in one of the darker corners of the cave, but to no avail. Ghost shifted, abruptly standing straight and alert. The Vessel didn’t speak a word, but the sudden movement was enough to clue in the other Vessels that something was wrong. At seeing their older sibling frantically looking about the room, they soon realized why.

Tiny was nowhere to be seen. 

The young Knight raced out of the cave and back the way they had come, hoping to find Tiny just sitting outside; perhaps they had been too afraid to follow their siblings into the tunnel. But to Ghost’s dismay, they weren’t.

Dashing back into the cave, their two remaining siblings where shuffling closer together, glancing around the room, anxiously searching for their missing sibling, but unable to call out for them.

Ghost inwardly cursed their kind’s innability to speak. If Tiny had been taken by some monster, the small Vessel wouldn’t have been able to scream. A sickly feeling creeped into Ghost’s stomach at the implications of lacking a voice making it nearly impossible to cry out for help. Not even to shriek in—wait a moment.

Shriek.

Ghost leaped onto the podium in the center of the room, Two and Three looking up at them with confusion before covering the base of their horns as the young Knight released a loud cacophonous howl of shrieking Wraiths into the cavern. The sound echoing off the stone walls, making it much louder and possibly strong enough to be heard even outside of the cave. 

The echoes lingered a while after the spell was executed, and the two Vessels now sitting on the floor in a daze, the sound still ringing in their horns as Ghost stood atop the podium; waiting.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tAP, TAP TAP….

The Vessels’ heads all snapped around to face the far wall, where the sound of small footsteps were quickly approaching, and soon a familiar white mask popped out from behind a cluster of stones.

The three Vessels quickly rushed over to Tiny, Ghost being the quickest and the first to embrace the Tiniest ghost, followed by Three and Two who joined in the reunion hug as well.

Tiny was confused, wondering why their siblings were trying to smother them, and waved their arms about in an attempt to get the bigger Vessels to lay off. They were only freed from their siblings’ crushing embraces when Ghost stood back and shot them a glower, silently demanding where Tiny had ran off to.

Tiny ignored Ghost’s scolding look,(Hornet was way better at it anyways), and instead excitedly pointed at a small crevice in the wall that had been previously hidden in the shadows of the rocks, tugging the edge of Ghost’s cloak urgently.

Ghost allowed Tiny to lead them into the hidden passage, with Two and Three following just behind, and they realized that the passage lead to a sort of alcove that was much smaller than the previous room.

The young Knight stopped in their tracks as they laid eyes on the large, hunched back corpse of a bug, and stared blankly at it for a few seconds.

The corpse was unlike any kind of bug that they had come across. It was slumped against a rock, with a strange mask and a dull red-ish hood the seemed to be made up of cloth, with stitches slitting down and continuing past the eyeless sockets. Its six limbs curled inwards on itself in the typical death curl most bugs ended up in after passing.

On impulse, Ghost retrieved the Dream nail from void within them. Drawing the unique tool back, it began to glow as it charged the power to manifest a blade of light, before the Knight quickly slashed foward and struck the corpse.

Instead of accessing the corpse’s final thoughts, the room suddenly filled with crimson dream motes; drifting and fading in and out in an etherial manner. The gaggle looked around at the floating motes of ghostly light, never having seen such things before as they had never witnessed the essence of dreams with their own eyes, and were filled with wonder at the sight.

Ghost however, had cut through the veil of dreams and waking multiple times, and knew what floating dream motes looked like, and they knew for a fact that dreams weren’t red.  Ghost was filled with trepidation of what this could mean, and quickly motioned the gaggle to follow them back into the main chamber.

Something had changed. The remains of the torches now stood as if they were brand new, and the rubble strewn around the room had reformed into arching stone pillars. In the center, the podium had been restored, and atop it now stood a large iron torch, and below it on the floor was what appeared to be a scarlet lantern imbedded in the stone.

Ghost motioned their siblings to stand back, before walking up to the lantern, and giving it an experimental strike with the flat of their nail, causing the gaggle to flinch back at the resounding clang.The result caused sparks to fly off as the lantered pulsed with a red light, before going dim again. 

Intrigued, the young Knight struck it again and again in rapid succession, causing more sparks to fly and the lantern to glow brighter and brighter, until it finally flared with a flash of light and a loud roar, the torches around the room suddenly burst to life. 

The Vessels braced themselves as the whole cave started to shake, a strange haunting melody sounded from an unknown source as dust and rocks fell from the ceiling. The gaggle crouched low to the ground, clinging onto one another as they weathered the very earth quaking beneath their feet; Ghost stood resolute with nail ready to defend their siblings from whatever the scarlet flames decided to throw at them.

Soon the cave became still once more as the melody ended its song, and silence once again resumed over the cavern. The only sound being the flickering of the dancing red flames lighting the torches. 

Whatever had happened, Ghost doubted that this was the end of it as they felt a foreboding sense of unease creeping along their shell. 

They needed to return to Dirtmouth. Ghost made a snap-decision and quickly gathered their siblings and silently urged them to grab hold onto their cloak as tightly as possible. Once Ghost was sure that all of them had a reliable grip on their cloak (or other arm in Tiny’s case), Ghost raised the Dream nail high and channeled it with essence; the energy swirled to encompass the group of Vessels as the blade of light hummed louder and louder.

With a flash, the Vessels were traveling through dream at the speed of light, warping through a Dream gate and appearing on the other side with another burst of light. 

Shaking off the disorientation manifested after warping through a Dream gate, Ghost and the gaggle found themselves in the Town of Dirtmouth, the Dream Gate having been planted between the Stag Station and the Bench. 

Ghost noticed something was up as soon as they spied the red signs planted at eqaully spaced intervals, pointing in the the direction of the edge of Town, where Ghost could just barely see the shapes of looming red tents erected ahead.

“Ahh!” Came a horrified wail.

The young Knight spotted the source to be Elderbug, and quickly ran up to him as the old bug exclaimed. “Look there! Something strange and sinister has suddenly appeared!” He pointed accusingly at the Red tents, which had two long-necked bugs resting in front of it. 

One of the long-necked steads looked in their direction, and Elderbug recoiled with disgust. “Ugh, it fills me with dread. I think it best I try to ignore it…” With that, he turned away and began swiftly walking back to his usual spot by the bench, all the while mumbling under his breath: “Why must these grotesque strangers intrude on our peaceful little home? Sometimes it feels like the whole world is conspiring to make me uncomfortable…”

Ghost didn’t know the answer to Elderbug’s plight, but they did know that whatever this was, it couldn’t be good. But what to do about it, the little Ghost wondered; should they investigate?

Ghost felt a tug on their cloak, and looked down to see Tiny, who was pointing at the crimson tents and looking up at Ghost with excitement in their eyes. To which, Ghost shook their head, grabbing Tiny by the hand and ushering Two and Three away from the crimson tents. There was no way Ghost was going to allow their siblings anywhere near there; not until the young Knight had scoped it out first.

The gaggle seemed very put out and disappointed that they weren’t allowed to investigate the new arrivals themselves, but Ghost insisted that they stayed inside the farthest house from the strange arrivals' tents. Which just so happened to be Bretta’s, who was sleeping soundly on her bed. Ghost was sure she wouldn’t mind their siblings staying over for an indefinite amount of time, (depending on how long it took to deal with the new arrivals).

Once Ghost had shut the door to Bretta’s behind them, they paused and stared at the red tents on the other side of town, the gears in their mind turning; calculating what the next course of action would be best to take. These arrivals were unknown, Ghost didn’t know what they wanted, nor why  they had appeared, but it no doubt had something to do with the red lantern. 

Red…red… it was all associated with red. What did Ghost know about red? Orange was the infection; Blue was lifeblood; White was SOUL; Black was Void. What was red? What have they seen in Hallownest that was also red? 

The familiar memory of a billowing cloak of crimson flashed across the young Knight’s mind. _Hornet!_ Hornet wore red, maybe she knew something about this. But where was Hornet? 

Ghost recalled that Hornet had been deligating the beasts within Deepnest, since she was the daughter of Herrah, she possesed the authority to command the beasts of the Distant Village now that the infection was gone. Ghost would have to take the Old Stag to get to her as quickly as possible and ran off to do just that.

***

Meanwhile, Tiny was not happy. They sat against the side of Bretta’s bed, their arms crossed and head tilted downwards in a Vessel’s aproximation of a scowl, or pout; kicking discontentedly at the floor.

Two and Three might have been perfectly fine with waiting around for their older sibling to come back, but Tiny was not so docile and didn’t like being forced to wait.

After several minutes of watching Two play around with their rubix cube that they always kept in their inventory, Tiny finally threw up their arms in silent exhasperation and stood up, walked over to the door and opened it.

Two and Three stared as their smallest sibling peered outside to see if Ghost was still around, before opening the door fully and waving at them to follow.

Three got up, and after a few seconds Two did as well, and together they went after their rogue sibling. Towards the crimson tents…

 

***

Grimm was a simple bug; albeit a bug with exquisite thespian talents and dashing good looks to boot, but a simple bug none the less. Or at least as simple bug could be being the Master of the Grimm Troupe. He only desired one thing, and that was the applause of the audience when he performed upon his red-lit stage.

But when the crowd only clapped and cheered because they knew not doing so would mean certain death, tends to get dull over time. 

Grimm wanted an audience other than his kin to perform for, he needed a fresh audience, a new performance! The previous ones were all so disappointing and drab, the summoners always perished before the final act. It had been so long since someone worthy of the starring role had summoned the Troupe, much too long. It was quite depressing to say the least.

 

Tap, tap, tap, tap…

The sound of multiple small feet was heard approaching from the hall, just barely audible above Brumm’s infernal accordion.

From somewhere unseen, the Troupe Master watched as three small creatures waddled into the chamber, looking about with child-like curiosity and hesitation. How interesting…were these the ones who had summoned his Troupe?

Grimm decided to give these kiddos a dramatic first impression, and on cue, red spot lights switched on and a drumroll began. The children froze on the spot, oblivious of what was happening and unsure of how respond. 

Suddenly, in a red puff of theatrical mist, Grimm appeared before the children with a dramatic swoosh of his wing-like cape, allowing a smirk to appear on his slit features at the sight of the utterly dumbfounded expressions on their faces.

"Greetings and Salutations, little ones! I am Grimm, master of the Grimm Troupe." --he made a show of peering down at them with sudden scrutiny. "Hmm, one of you three wouldn't happen to the one who has summoned us? Perhaps you?--" He pointed a claw at the pudgy one, secretly amused by the way the child flinched back in surprise. That one quickly shook their head. "Oh? Then maybe it was you!" -- He pointed to the scrawny one, which merely stared at him for a moment before slowly shaking its head. "Hmm, well what about you then, small one?" Grimm leaned down to look the smallest of the three right in the eyes, his tone dipping lower -- just barely on the edge of being menacing. "Tell me, child, was it you that lit the scarlet lantern?"

Tiny was shivering like a leaf, practically vibrating where they stood as they tried to muster up the courage to think of an answer, and eventually managing to shake their head from side to side. No.

Grimm drew himself up with a disappointed huff, turning away from the three."Ah, that is too bad. I was hoping to meet the summoner before we got started. After all, they have an important role to play in our performance."

Tiny and the others perked up at this. A performance? What kind of performance? They silently wondered. 

Grimm was watching the three from the corner of his eye, a smile hidden by the fringes of his collared cape. "Ah, have I piqued your interest, little ones? Do you wish to see just what the Grimm Troupe has in store?" 

The three Vessels nodded eagerly, their earlier apprehension completely forgotten. 

Grimm chuckled darkly, his eyes glowing with a sinister red light. "Very well then..." He lifted a hand, and snapped his fingers. "Welcome to the Show, my lovelies." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh snap. 
> 
> I feel like I had to make up for the last fic I posted that featured Grimm. I don't hate the guy, really, he's cool. I just have a habit of pointing an iron-hot poker at his face whilst dEMANDING WHAT THE ACTUAL HECK DOES HE KNOW ABOUT THE PALE KING AND THE VESSELS. --ahem...
> 
> but yeah. I like Grimm. I'd kidnap his children.


	9. Walk of Doom

Well Hornet was no help at all.

After Ghost had made it to the Distant Village via the Old Stag, they had tried to alert Hornet of the incident happening above. But lacking the ability to speak really made it difficult to explain the situation.

“Ghost, whatever it is, I’m sure you can handle it on your own.” Hornet dismissed the Knight tugging the edge of her cloak. “Go pester Quirrel about it if you must. I’m sure he will be more than happy to drop everything he’s doing in favor of eloping with you.”

 _But I don’t know where he is!_ Ghost wanted to scream, but could only hold their arms up in exasperation as they watched their sister turn away to continue conversing with the Midwife. 

***

Meanwhile, Quirrel was just arriving in Dirtmouth after having made another excursion out to Fog Canyon. 

The many texts held within the jars were certainly a marvel to pore over, and he’d found himself reading for what must have been hours, before hunger had finally jarred him from his musings.

Though Quirrel did not need to eat very often, he still made it a habit to eat more often than not. He no longer had to ration out food like he did out in the wastelands beyond Hallownest, so there was no reason to be peckish. And besides, it was getting late and he’d best return before Ghost started hunting after him again.

Quirrel was not over exaggerating when he said the young Knight was protective. If Quirrel ended up falling asleep whilst studying, or hadn’t returned to the surface within 24 hours, Ghost would start doggedly searching for him across the breadth of the kingdom until they either found him or he turned up at Dirtmouth; to which the Knight would then try to play it off as if they _weren’t_ worried half to death. 

Quirrel chuckled and shook his head as he walked out of the Stag Station, the little Ghost really needed to learn to take it easy. There weren’t any new threats hanging over Hallownest…

Quirrel spotted a red sign planted near the bench, followed by another red sign just after that, pointing towards two large crimson tents at the edge of Dirtmouth.

Speak of the devil…

Quirrel felt concerned and preemptively reached up to rest a hand on his hat, only to realize that it wasn’t there. Right…He settled for rubbing the back of his neck instead. He was so used to having the familiar weight of Monomon’s mask that at times he’d forget it wasn’t there. Same went for his lance, though he was pretty good at hiding these old habits.

With resolve, Quirrel decided to approach the crimson tents— noting the long-necked red steads parked in front of the largest chapiteau. Their type was familiar to him; he remembered meeting one by the name of Willoh down in the Queen’s Station. These ones were slightly different, however. Their black antennae were drooped back into curls, and their visages were struck through with black markings that started from the top of their crowns to the bottom of their muzzles, seemingly crossing straight through their very eyes. 

Quirrel approached these two, appearing friendly but secretly keeping his wits about him as they looked in his direction. 

“Hello there! What brings you to the town of Dirtmouth?” Quirrel asked conversationally.

But the two creatures merely looked at him with blank expressions, perhaps they couldn’t speak? Or maybe they were just afraid of him.

“My name is Quirrel,” He tried again, hoping to break the ice by introducing himself. “I’m the resident scholar currently. I’ve only just recently decided to move into town, perhaps you are to become new residences as well, I hope?”

No response. 

It was as though they didn’t understand what he was saying, or even registering that he was speaking at all. How strange.

Quirrel glanced at the smaller tent, deciding to go ahead and investigate. “Well, it was nice talking to you two.” He waved at the two long-necks, who watched silently as he walked passed them and entered the small tent.

“Hello? Is anyone here—oh!” Quirrel stopped in surprise at the sight of the tent’s occupant. 

“Aaaaaaaaahhhhhh!” The being exclaimed, peering down at Quirrel with one masked eye. She — for it was most certainly a she— was a termite type of bug, with a large abdomen that’s mass draped across the majority of the floor. Her only visible appendages being her two clawed fore-limbs attached to her almost comically petite upper body. She wore a red ruffled scarf about her shoulders with only half a mask covering half of her face. The mask bore a similar marking to what the two steads outside had. “Who are you? Did you call us? You don’t posses the smell…”

“I-I’m terribly sorry!” Quirrel quickly apologized, “I hope I’m not intruding. It’s just that, these tents of yours suddenly appeared and I just had to investigate to see what the commotion was about.”

“Eeeuuargghh!” The being raised a claw up as she turned her face away. “If you did not call us then who did…? Why aren’t they here? Ahhh. It doesn’t matter. Don’t tell me. We came, and I can smell something. Something deep below us. I want it… I want it!”

“Huh?” Quirrel was honestly confused about what the being was talking about. And although he wasn’t the kind of bug to judge another based on their appearance, this creature made him uneasy as she proceeded to murmur to herself in breathy grumblings. 

Quirrel decided it was best to just back away slowly out of the tent, and away from the rather…disturbed lass. 

Once he was safely outside, Quirrel let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Well, that was certainly an interesting encounter.” He joked to himself, glancing at the two long-necks, (who were still watching him), before deciding to enter to largest tent.

Quirrel was surprised when he ended up entering a long dark corridor. The sound of an accordion could be heard playing as Quirrel moved further in, looking around the dark hallway with awe. “Is the inside actually bigger than it appears on the outside?” He wondered allowed.

“Mrmm.” A low grunt answered.  
Quirrel whipped around, only to see the source of where the accordion music was playing.

“You called us?” It was a rather buff looking individual. Clad in a dark tight suite with the arms striped different shades of grey. He too possessed a red ruffled shall similar to the lady in the other tent, only tis one was attached to the costume. He wore a similar mask as others as well, this one completely hiding his face.

“Uh…” Quirrel blinked as he realized that he had been asked a question. “Called you? No, no. I just came here to see whats going on.”

The brutish bug seemed to consider Quirrel for a moment, still dutifully playing his accordion without so much as a pause. “…Mrmm. Speak to Master.”

“Master?” Quirrel inquired. To which the bug merely nodded his head in the direction beyond the corridor ahead. “Oh, right. Well, thank you… uh?”

“Brumm.” The bug replied shortly.

“Thank you, Brumm.” Quirrel nodded in gratitude before moving on down the corridor, which he found opened up into the tent proper.

“Hello?” Quirrel hazard to call out, his voice echoing slightly in the empty room. “I was told to speak to the Master?”

He jumped when he suddenly found himself in the spot light, the sound of a drum roll played in the background.

Then there was a giant puff of red smoke, and what now stood manifested before the bug was a being that was several lengths taller than Quirrel. The being’s black and red cape draped regally down its form; the neck line sporting a fringed collar that framed a sinister visage. Red eyes outlined with black stared down at Quirrel.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” The being suddenly announced, with a flourishing wave of his cape. “Welcome to the Grimm Troupe’s Grand new performance! Starring the one and only Master Grimm and—“ Grimm suddenly appeared beside Quirrel with a swiftness that defied reason. “—what’s your title, friend?”

“Uh, it’s Quirrel.” Quirrel replied somewhat hesitantly, bemused and completely thrown off guard by what was happening. 

“And QUIRREL!” Grimm announced almost snidely after withdrawing to his original position in the center of the stage. “Put your hands together, my lovelies! For the Show begins now!”

There was another puff of red smoke, and suddenly Quirrel found himself atop a precarious platform several meters in the air. Spikes suddenly protruded from the ground below, and parts of the ground slid back to reveal potholes that spewed forth pillars of flame that were hot enough to almost singe Quirrel’s shell.

Down below, more lights flashed on to reveal an audience of hooded figures clapping with zeal, but what caught Quirrel’s attention were the three Vessels sitting in the front row, eagerly applauding along with the crowd.

“Tiny!” Quirrel called out to them, for a moment forgetting his life was currently in danger. “What are you all doing here?!”

Tiny and the others merely waved up at Quirrel. Seemingly unaware of the danger their adoptive bug uncle was in. 

“For our first ACT, we bring to you the infamous Walk of Doom!!!” Grimm’s voice boomed from somewhere unseen. “Watch as our protagonist braves the tight-walk across the chasm of Death! Will he succeed or meet a scorching demise?”

“Wait—What?!” Quirrel suddenly found that he was holding a long pole and was now being forced towards the beginning of the tightrope as segments of the platform he was on began to fall away. It seemed he had no choice but to risk the daunting Walk of Doom, or fall to his death.

Steeling himself, Quirrel dug up the natural skill and poise he had when he wielded a nail in days of old and took the first step. He teetered, but thankfully managed to get himself balanced thanks to the pole he held. The crowd cheered as he gradually began crossing.

“Oh! I forgot to mention; my kin shall also be starring in this performance!” Announced Grimm’s raspy voice, and suddenly two Grimmkins came swinging at the precarious Quirrel from the side, clinging to trapezes as they cackled gleefully.

Quirrel ducked as one of them narrowly missed hitting him in the face, causing him to nearly lose his balance in the process. The flames below roared as they threatened to set the very rope on fire. The Grimmkin summersaulted above Quirrel, trading trapezes with even bigger Grimmkin.

Quirrel had to keep moving, and tightened his grip around the pole as he watched the Grimmkin swinging towards him from the opposite side.

These ones had staffs and when they got within range, they shot balls of fire at Quirrel. The crowd screamed as Quirrel leaped into the air to avoid the fire balls, using the pole to smack the Grimmkins out of the air, to which they theatrically pretended to fall to their doom before remembering that they could fly and sped away; disappearing off stage. 

Quirrel landed on the tightrope, which bowed under his weight before springing back.

Suddenly carnival music began to play and the tightrope bowed again under the weight of yet another occupent on the rope.

“B-Brumm?!” Quirrel exclaimed in outright bewilderment. 

At the opposite end of the tightrope, the burly form of Brumm riding atop a unicycle rolled forwards with gravity defying poise, all while still playing his trademark accordion. “Mrmm…” was the only thing he said in reply.

Quirrel took a step back, looking around frantically as Brumm continued to roll closer and closer. Suddenly a ring of fire appeared above the unicyclist’s head, the flames burned scorchingly bright; if Quirrel didn’t jump through, Brumm would knock him off the tightrope entirely. 

Jump too low, and he’d end up burning himself, jump too high, same problem. Quirrel would have to time his jump carefully. He may no longer posses the mask of Monomon to give him strength, but he was still agile and quick as a fiddle.

Losing the pole, (it would have only gotten in the way), Quirrel crouched upon the tightrope — using one hand to grip the rope beneath him and the other hand he held out to balance himself. 

Once Brumm teetered within range, Quirrel jumped.

***

Meanwhile, Ghost had just arrived at Dirtmouth after a sour journey of going all the way to Hornet for nothing. Their sister was just too busy. But Ghost supposed that they shouldn’t be too surprised, and secondly, when had they ever needed to rely on their big sister for anything? Back when the plague was running rampant through the kingdom, Ghost was virtually on their own for the most part — their sister even tried to kill them. Twice! 

Ghost could handle this new threat on their own.

Once they exited the Stag station, they went straight towards the crimson tents. Resolve and determination within their footsteps as they waltzed right passed the long-necks and into the biggest tent. They were going to get to the bottom of this, straight to the point, no nonsense. Ghost wanted to know _who_ these bugs were and what business did they have in Dirtmouth.

What Ghost instead found was something straight out of a nightmare.

Quirrel was pinned to a spinning wheel of death, whilst some tall, darkly caped figure withdrew knives from out of nowhere, intending to throw the sharp daggers at the already pinned bug. There was a crowd of goons cheering in the background, and one glanced confirmed that, yes, the gaggle were also part of the audience. The children were completely ignorant of the danger Quirrel was in, believing it was only an act. But Ghost knew better.

As Grimm threw the first knife, Ghost dashed between Quirrel and the incoming knife, deflecting it with a swing of their nail. The crowd emitted a collective gasp as the knife imbedded itself inches from Grimm’s feet, but Grimm seemed unfazed by it. Instead, Grimm’s eyes glinted with a sneer.

“So, the summoner finally shows themselves at long last. Pity you arrived a tad late to the show; it’s bad luck to be tardy at an event such as this.”

Ghost ignored Grimm, shifting closer to the tied up Quirrel whilst keeping their hollow eyes trained on the Troupe Master. With a flick of their wrist, the bonds holding Quirrel were cut loose, allowing the scholarly bug to fall free from the wheel of death and onto the floor in a heap.

Quirrel groaned, his head still spinning with dizziness as he reached up to remove the blindfold that had been made from his hood, situating it into its proper place and smoothing it back atop his head. “Well…that was certainly something that I never want to do again.” 

The children finally caught on that something was amiss, and Tiny was the first one to clamber over the balcony and drop down onto the stage, followed by Three and Two soon after. 

Ghost gave them the stink eye — or tried to at least, it was kinda hard to convey emotions when your face is a perpetual blank slate. But somehow the message got across and the gaggle quickly busied themselves with helping Quirrel.

Quirrel was none worse for wear, a few scuffs and scorch marks, but overall he was okay. 

Ghost gestured with their nail for Quirrel to to take the children and abscond, intending to deal with the Grimm Troupe themselves.

Quirrel’s first impulse was to object, but he knew that Ghost was more capable than anyone to handle the Grimm troupe. He and the gaggle would only get in the way if they stayed. “Alright. Good luck, my friend. We’ll be at my cottage.” Quirrel conceded, but gave Ghost a look that said the young Knight better make sure to come back alive and well.

Ghost nodded in acknowledgement, swiping their nail again to tell them to get going. As soon as Quirrel herded the gaggle out of sight, Ghost returned their attention to Grimm.

“Well now that your little gang is out of the way,” Grimm spoke with a leading tone. “Let us get straight to business, shall we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't worry the grimchild will be soon.


	10. Welcome to the Family

“You. did. _WHAT?!_ ” 

In the cottage that resided in the town of Dirtmouth — which had inadvertently become the family’s base of operations — Quirrel, Ghost, Two, Three and Tiny were gathered in the living room with an utterly flabbergasted Hornet glaring daggers at all of them.

“ _Mwrrrer…_ ” Oh, and there was also a fully incubated nightmare spawn hovering idly in the air near where Ghost was seated. The derelict creature’s pupil-less eyes glowed a sinister red, despite the fact that it appeared completely oblivious of the mostly one-sided argument happening between Ghost and their elder sister.

Hornet was absolutely livid; already exhausted from organizing the few remaining citizens of the Distant village.

“Let me get this straight. You four lit a mysterious beacon that you found hidden in the crags of the Howling Cliffs, summoned an unknown supernatural force into Dirtmouth masquerading as circus performers claiming to be this ‘Grimm Troupe’ —who also claimed that one of you had to participate in an unholy ritual involving the retrieval of this kingdom’s _scarlet_ flames in order to feed the nightmarish hell-spawn of their Master— And you WENT ALONG WITH IT?!”

Quirrel was fidgeting awkwardly, frankly he was probably just as baffled as Hornet was on the specifics of what had transpired within the Grimm Troupe’s ritual, but there was only so much that they could get Ghost to tell them. 

After all, they couldn’t speak, and had clear problems with expressing themselves in a way that didn’t involve using their nail, so Quirrel had only been able to extract the bare gist of what had happened through the gaggle of three’s interpretive dance detailing the events that had taken place. 

That, and from what Quirrel had learned from his chat he had with Grimm after Ghost came home with an infant held in their arms, black tears welling up at the corners of their eyes as they clung to the Grimmchild.

oooOOooo

_“Ah, greetings. Quirrel, was it? Have you returned for an encore, perhaps?” The hoarse whispering voice of Grimm made Quirrel want to cringe, but he managed to mask his distaste of the Troupe Master with the resolve of wanting answers._

_“No,” He said slowly, keeping his tone light. “As thrilling as that performance was, I must admit that I’m getting on in years and would prefer to avoid cutting my life any shorter than it already is.”_

_At this, Grimm let out a cackle; the sound was boisterous yet heartfelt as the Troupe Master wiped away and imaginary tear with a claw. “Ah, you are a real card, my friend! You’d make a fine jester if you were part of the Troupe.” Grimm gave a snap of his fingers and Quirrel suddenly found himself seated at a table with tea and an assortment of biscuits._

_Grimm was seated at the opposite side, sipping from a tea cup that had manifested out of nowhere, and when Quirrel glanced down he realized that he was also holding a cup of tea._

_“Well then, if it is not an encore you seek, then perhaps you came to have a chat with the Master, am I correct in assuming such?”_

_“Uh—yes, indeed. I was hoping you could tell me exactly why my young friend is currently toting around a child that bears an uncanny resemblance to you.” Quirrel stated, raising the cup of tea to take a sip out of politeness. It tasted nice; like cranberries._

_“Ah, I see. Are you by chance the guardian of the summoner then?”_

_Quirrel nearly choked on his tea, spluttering. “Huh?!—me? N-no, no! I-I’m just a good friend of theirs…”_

_Grimm didn’t bat an eye at Quirrel’s fumbling, casually taking a swig on his own beverage — which at some point had been replaced by a glass of wine._

_“Indeed. Well, to answer your inquiry in the simplest of terms: your friend lit the lantern and their role was cast; our compact written in scarlet fire. As we speak, my kin now spread, harvesting the essence peculiar to my breed. As the summoner, it is the their task to seek my kin; claim their flame and return to me. My child shall guide them to the flame and gather that burning essence within themselves. Like your small friend, the child plays a key role in our ritual.”_

oooOOOooo

That was all that Quirrel could get before Ghost had shown up with the Grimmchild fluttering behind them, and he was ungraciously dismissed.

“Well?!” Hornet barked, tapping an impatient foot as she watched the children look cluelessly at one another, before all three of them resorted to staring apologetically at the floor with obvious guilt. 

Ghost remained impassive, seemingly unfazed by Hornet’s scolding, and Quirrel got the sneaking suspicion that the young Knight wasn’t really listening either. In fact, they almost appeared as though they were deep in thought.

Quirrel finally shrugged with a hopeless chuckle. “Well, the Grimm Troupe vanished no more than an hour after the children and I had retreated inside to let Ghost handle the situation. And…well now we have a new member of the family, I suppose.” 

It was evident that Quirrel was much more accepting of what the result of the strange series of events had brought, than Hornet was. 

Indeed, he didn’t understand why the Grimm Troupe would suddenly leave when they had only just arrived, and even more confusing was the fact that Grimm had left their child behind; seemingly abandoning the winged-infant — which had grown since Quirrel had last seen it. Very strange indeed.

Hornet huffed in exasperation, “You know what, at this point I have ceased to care. Do what you want, just make sure _that thing_ doesn’t cause any catastrophic events. This kingdom has already suffered enough atrocities.”

“Now hold on a moment, Hornet.” Quirrel objected, crossing his arms. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit harsh? It’s practically only just a larva, and already you think ill of its existence!”

“Art thou blind?! It is clearly _not_ just any common larva, but a child of nightmares!” Hornet retorted, pointing her needle accusingly at the Grimmchild. 

“ _Mrrewrr…_ ” was all the Grimmchild had to say as it apparently decided that it was tired of hovering, and let itself fall softly onto whatever happened to be immediately beneath it. That just so happened to be Tiny, who was barely the same size as the Grimmchild —not counting the wings, which were large enough to smother the poor Vessel.

Thankfully, the Grimmchild didn’t smother the Vessel with its wings, instead wrapping them around its own body and curling up in Tiny’s lap. It was a cute, and somewhat amusing sight to see the supposed nightmarish creature sleeping upon what was probably the smallest cushion in the room. 

Tiny patted it on the crown of its head, and the Grimmchild purred contentedly as the gaggle of Vessels took to observing it curiously.

Hornet glowered suspiciously at it, before shaking her head and making her way towards the door. But before she left, she shot a meaningful look over her shoulder at Quirrel, who returned her stare evenly and gave a slight nod; silently communicating with Hornet that yes, he agreed that he would be cautious despite what he may think of the Grimmchild.

Satisfied for the time being, Hornet turned away and exited the dwelling, closing the door behind her and walking towards the outskirts of town.

She felt an impending migraine coming on, as she continued to speculate the repercussions this _new_ family member would no doubt inevitably bring if it wasn’t kept it check. 

She sighed, she wasn’t used to having to keep track of all these different things. She relied on instinct to guide her rather than logic — which certainly helped her when in battle and other physical activities that involved having to think on one’s feet. But organizing, planning for the future of Hallownest; rallying the support from the surviving tribes; all whilst tending to her siblings and worrying about what Ghost would get up to when she wasn’t looking. And now the appearance of the Grimmchild was added on top of her steadily growing pile of things to worry about.

Hornet was a warrior; a fighter and a protector, not a ruler or a leader. She knew how to take care of herself, but having to care for others was a different matter that she was still learning to adjust to. 

There were times when Hornet found herself doubting her abilities to raise Hallownest from its ruined state. To organize the remnants of an entire kingdom into rebuilding seemed almost too daunting of a challenge to take on.

Only time would tell if Hornet was truly up to the task or not.


	11. Snow?! In Hallownest?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> winter's coming
> 
> hold on to yer butts

It was getting cold out. 

At first it was hardly noticeable. A chilled breeze here and there, but nothing to be worried about. 

But then it started getting cold out, especially on the surface, where locations such as Dirtmouth, Howling Cliffs and Crystal Peak were being most affected by the biting chill of the wind. 

Many speculated why this phenomenon was happening, but the ones who were in- the-know all settled on the theory that the decreasing temperature was due to the expulsion of the Pale Light and – recently – the suffocation of the Old Light. 

With the light of the two higher beings gone, Hallownest lay vulnerable to the winds of change.

***

Two, Three and Ghost were all gathered by the nearest window sill with their masks pressed up against the glass, ogling at something taking place outside.

Tiny was too short to see through the window and tried to jump up and down in hopes to glimpse the strange phenomenon, but their efforts were futile with their siblings too enamored by the sight to notice their plight.

“ _Mrreew…_ ” Luckily for Tiny, someone else took note of their current dilemma.

Gritten, the Grimmchild, grabbed the back of Tiny’s cloak in their jaws and lifted them up into the air above the other siblings’ heads, giving the Tiniest a clear view of what was happening outside.

It was raining; raining flecks of white that drifted lazily onto the ground, already creating a thin layer of white atop the ground and surrounding buildings.

While the gaggle were mesmerized by the sight, Ghost was having a whirlwind of thoughts flashing through their mind. 

Was it ash blowing in from the Pale Wyrm’s decaying corpse down in Kingdom’s Edge? Did another Wyrm die nearby? But that would be impossible, Ghost would have certainly noticed if a giant colossus of a creature like that of a Wyrm came hurtling by Dirtmouth in the dead of night, plus the corpse would have needed time to decay to allow such quantities of ash to fall from the sky. 

Ghost had to see for themselves, quickly turning away from the window and briskly making their way towards the door, only to have it flung open before they had a chance to reach for the doorknob.

“Oh children, come outside! Quickly! It’s snowing!” Quirrel’s excited voice came as the taller bug stepped inside and waved at the gaggle still gathered at the window.

 _Snowing._ Ghost stared intently up at Quirrel, who had more of that white ash sticking to the top of his bandana. They also noticed that he was shivering slightly, despite the fact that he was smiling joyously. 

The gaggle, plus Gritten, were oblivious to these observations, quickly scampering past Ghost and Quirrel and into the outdoors before Ghost had a chance to stop them.

Ghost stood by the doorway, watching on as their siblings jumped and danced on the white ash – the _snow_. The three Vessels quickly became fascinated with catching the flakes of white, and even Gritten was spitting small embers at the falling flakes as they passed by. Ghost reached out a hand as one of the white specks drifted close, catching it in the palm of their hand and staring at it.

Ghost was surprised to find that the stark contrast between the whiteness of the fleck and the blackness of their hand allowed them to see that the white speck was not a mere speck, but an intricate crystal of ice, displaying a delicate sixfold of symmetry, before it quickly began melting into – _water!_

“Incredible, isn’t it?”

Ghost turned their head and looked up at Quirrel, who at some point had gone inside and donned a dark green shawl of sorts before coming back to stand with them at the doorway.

“I have seen this type of weather occur in the colder parts of the Barrens beyond. Water in the air freezes and transforms from raindrops to snowflakes. Or so I’ve heard. Quite a fascinating phenomena, no?” Quirrel’s gaze drifted to the sky above as he worried his chin in thought. “Wonder why such a thing is happening here of all places…”

Ghost shared the sentiment, wiping the now melted snowflake off their hand with their cloak. 

It had been getting colder recently, Ghost hadn’t really cared at the time, but now that it was cold enough to freeze the very water in the air? In the past: Ghost probably wouldn’t have been concerned by that either. 

Now that Ghost no longer had to just worry about themselves – but also their siblings and friends as well, they felt a minute amount of concern welling up from within as they continued to stare up at the snow drifting down from the sky. 

Ghost was struck with an impulse at the realization, and started off towards the Stag Station; set on whatever compulsion had taken hold of them.

Quirrel watched as the young Knight wandered off, not bothering to call out and ask where they were going. Quirrel knew that Ghost went where they pleased; the fact that Ghost hadn’t convoked their siblings to follow them was – what Quirrel had eventually learned – their silent way of saying ‘I’m going someplace dangerous. You’re here. You watch them.’.

Quirrel was perfectly fine with grubsitting the gaggle, and he wasn’t worried about what the young Knight was up to. Even though Ghost was technically still a child, they had survived and conquered many hardships by themselves and had risen victorious.

“They do not need an adult doting over them,” Quirrel said to himself. “Hmm, I wonder if Hornet has noticed the snow yet…”

Meanwhile, Two had invented the creation of snowballs, to which Three discovered that they could preserve said snowballs in their inventory. Tiny and Gritten were busy making ‘snow-moths’ by lying flat on their backs and fanning their arms and legs – or in little Gritten’s case: their wings and their tail – out in a sweeping motion that left peculiar imprints on the snow.

Quirrel couldn’t help but chuckle in amusement at the children’s antics. It was obvious that they were ignorant to what this change in the weather could entail upon Hallownest’s future, and as a result: they only saw wonder and joy.

“Quirrel!” A voice suddenly broke Quirrel’s train of thought, and when he turned, he saw Hornet swiftly approaching him.

“Ah hello, Hornet!” Quirrel waved. “Lovely weather we’re having, aren’t we?”

Hornet did not respond at first, despite her attempts to appear calm, Quirrel still noticed the urgency in her gait and the stiff way she held herself once she was standing before him.

She glanced in the direction of where the siblings continued to play in the snow, and for a few moments there was only silence between them.

“It’s snowing…” Hornet finally spoke, her voice low and contemplative. “I have never seen snow in Hallownest before; this is a new change.” 

Quirrel leaned back against the closed door behind him. “Indeed, quite a fascinating change. I only hope that this weather is only temporary, and that it is not an omen of a chilly future ahead of us.”

Hornet nodded in agreement. “Let us hope so, Quirrel. It's still relatively warm underground, especially in the lush areas such as Greenpath and the Fungal Wastes, but I would hate to have the townsfolk of Dirtmouth move down to the Crossroads if the climate continues to worsen.”

Quirrel hummed in agreement, and for a moment the two of them occupied themselves with watching the children play.

Three and Two had decided it would be fun to burry Tiny in the snow with only their head left uncovered, whilst Gritten had at some point discovered that snow was edible and had taken to nomming one of the snowballs Two had made. 

It was during this moment that Hornet realized there was a child unaccounted for. “Where’s Ghost?”

Quirrel shrugged. “Oh, they just headed off to the Stag station not too long ago. Didn’t say where they were going, of course.”

Hornet gave a mildly irritated sigh. Of course Ghost would run off at a time like this. However, Hornet was brought out of her thoughts as she realized that Tiny was now shivering in the pile of snow that their siblings had buried them in.

Swiftly, Hornet switched into big-sister mode and stepped in to take command of the situation.

“Alright, play time is over. Come now, get inside.” Hornet said sternly, plucking the quivering ball that was the Tiniest out of their bed of snow and nudging the others. “Come on, get up. If you keep sitting there you will only get colder.”

But Two and Three seemed unwilling to get to their feet, instead choosing to huddle closer together whilst they shivered. Two was still holding a snowball, apparently not realizing that doing so was making their hands numb.

Quirrel stepped over to help, picking up Two and Three; hefting a child in each arm. “Haha, looks like we need to get some warmer apparel for the three of you, huh?” He chuckled, as Two merely dropped the slightly melted snowball with a wet plop, now seemingly disgusted with it as they rested their head on his shoulder in a pout. “Ah, alright, time to go inside!” 

With that, Quirrel and Hornet carried the gaggle back inside the shelter of the cottage; little Gritten fluttering in after them, completely unfazed by the cold. 

Once inside, Hornet lay Tiny down on a nearby couch and wrapped them up in a table cloth she found nearby. She made a mental note to start weaving more quilts.

Quirrel did the same with Two and Three, placing them on either side of their smallest sibling and doing his best to wrap them up nice and warm with his shawl. 

It was obvious that it wasn’t enough, as the gaggle were still shivering. Tiny seemed to be the worst off, quivering like a leaf, whilst Three seemed to be the only one who appeared fine, and Two just looked more lethargic than usual.

“Hmm, I’ll go see if we do not have anymore blankets upstairs,” Quirrel said as he turned to do just that.

“ _Mrrew…_ ” Gritten decided that they wanted to help as well, and flew over the gaggle before smoothly sprawling themselves atop the three Vessels. 

Due to the scarlet flames the Grimchild consumed, their body was unnaturally warm and provided the shivering children with an effective self-heating pillow as they snuggled further under their blankets.

The sight – Hornet silently admitted to herself – was actually quite adorable.

Within moments the little Vessels were asleep, even though their void-filled sockets remained open, it was the way their bodies seemed to slump and their breathing evened out that foretold their state of unconsciousness. 

With an amused huff, Hornet allowed herself to sit down in one of the chairs nearby and withdrew a pair of needles from her cloak – along with one of her many spools of thread she often carried with her. The needles were like daggers, and she used them as such whenever she was out on the field; but for now, they would do just fine as knitting needles.

“Might as well get started on those quilts,” Hornet said, “and maybe some warmer clothes…”

***

Meanwhile, Ghost was traversing through the Queen’s Gardens. The place hadn’t gotten any less overgrown since the defeat of the Radiance, and in fact appeared to be flourishing. 

Fortunately, the new plant growth had covered up most of the wicked thorns and bracken that had made the Gardens so dangerous to step foot in, though there was still plenty of dangers non-the-less.

Nothing that Ghost couldn’t handle, of course.  
It wasn’t long until the young Knight was entering the Queen’s Hideout in the room beyond the chamber where they battled against the Traitor Lord with Cloth. 

They had not been strong enough to move Cloth’s body from where it lay after the Traitor Lord had killed them, and so Ghost had instead built a tomb around her body. They moved dirt, moss, plant fibre and various other debris until the body was thoroughly covered – the only grave maker being the warrior Cicada’s club placed against the mound.

When Ghost had arrived, they were intrigued to see that, somehow, fragile flowers had taken root around the grave. They took care in moving around them as they silently payed their respects to the fallen, before moving on to their intended destination.

Now, they stood before the White Lady, who had remain unchanged since they last saw her; eyes closed and glowing a faint, pale luminosity that was as soft as it was tranquil. 

The White Lady’s eyes opened upon sensing her offspring’s presence nearby. Her eyes were even paler than before; once a sparkling royal blue, now a pale shimmering teal. She blinked a few times before shifting slightly, as if she was slightly disoriented.

“Ahhh…it returns, and what has it done? You did not usurp the Vessel, and yet I can no longer sense the presence of the plague. Only a mounting freeze I feel in the very tips of my roots above. On the surface…is it snowing?” There was a pause, and the ancient Queen’s eyelids fluttered closed. “Oh…so that is why… an impossible thing you have accomplished. Since the very first, you have exceeded expectation…”

The White Lady fell silent, and after a few moments, Ghost realized that she wasn’t going to say anything more and turned to leave.

“I’m glad…” She spoke barely above a whisper, so quiet were her words that Ghost almost didn’t hear them as they paused to look back at their mother. 

“At last, we dream no more…”

***

Several hours had past and Quirrel had long since fallen asleep in a nearby chair, when Tiny suddenly sat up from where they slept between their siblings; still tangled up in a mess of blankets that had slowly grown in number until the entire couch was covered in quilts.

Tiny looked around, feeling like they had woken up for a reason but now couldn’t remember what that reason was. They still felt tired anyways, so maybe it was nothing.

As soon as Tiny laid their head down to go back to sleep, they heard it.

_Jingle-ling…Jingle-ling…_

They sat up again, their fatigue instantly replaced with alert curiosity as they listened. It sounded like stag bells – many little stag bells ringing.

Tiny jumped up and clambered to the floor, accidentally causing Gritten to fall off the couch with an irate _MRREH!_ The previously snoozing Grimchild thrashed on the floor, Hornet having wrapped them up at some point and turned into a Grimburrito before they managed to squirm their way free from their confines.

Three was also awakened by the disturbance, and reached over to shake Two awake, extricating themselves out of the pile of blankets as well – but not without taking a few of the quilts with them on the way.

Two clumsily hurried to follow after their more energetic siblings, too groggy with sleep to notice that their entire upper body was mummified in a ridiculously long knitted scarf, completely restricting the use of their arms.

Tiny jumped up an down impatiently in front to the door, too short to reach the handle. But Gritten quickly took care of that by gripping their cloak in their jaws and lifting them up high enough to reach the handle, before letting them drop back down.

A chilly gust of wind practically threw the door open as the gaggle was momentarily blinded by a flurry of snow. 

When they endured the initial onslaught of snow, they gazed out at a completely transformed Dirtmouth.

The snow on the ground had built up at least five inches since it had first started, and the gaggle marveled at how different Dirtmouth looked covered in white. The snow was caked on the roofs of nearby houses, the street lamps lumfly lanterns were frosted over, nearly obscuring the lumflies’ light; making the streets appear darker than usual.

_Jingle-ling…Jingle-ling._

Tiny and the others looked around, leaning out as far as they dared without stumbling into the cold snow as they searched for the source of the peculiar sound.

Down the road, they could just faintly see a shimmering light coming their way, followed by the sound of the bells and…galloping hoof-steps?

“WOAH, NOW! WOAH! Steady she goes now!” A loud booming voice shouted above the wind, as the sight of a sled being pulled by a mini Old Stag was seen speeding down the snow covered street.

Riding the sled was the large red figure of none other than the Nailmaster Mato himself! His fur-collared cloak billowing behind him as he tugged on the reigns connected to the mini Old Stag’s harness.

“Slow down, you feisty thing! HAHA!” 

The little stag appeared to finally listen to its rider, or maybe it just noticed the gathered Vessels standing in the open doorway of a cottage and wanted to stop to take a closer look. Either way, the stag skidded as it put on the brakes, spraying snow in its wake in a wave of slurry before grinding to halt right in front of the cottage.

“Ah! Hello, little ones!” Mato greeted with a hearty laugh, jumping off the sturdy sled and looking down at the gaggle with a twinkle in his eyes. “Didn’t expect to see you living down in the town of Dirtmouth, but what’s this? Are you three all by yourselves? Where is my prized young pupil at?”

At this, Tiny realized that, yeah, where _was_ Ghost? And for that matter, where was Hornet?

But they weren’t alone, and they told Mato so by gesturing inside at the still snoozing form of Quirrel. He had somehow been given similar treatment regarding the mass of sweaters he was buried in. Hornet must have really gone crazy with the idea of knitting warmer regalia for _everyone_. 

The three Vessels shared uncertain looks with one another, before Tiny merely shrugged.

Mato rubbed his chin in thought with a gloved hand. “Uh-hmm, I see. Well, no need to fret! I’m sure they’ll return soon enough. I just came down from the Cliffs, the wind up there was getting much too ferocious to handle, and what do you know – I come across this young buck on my way down.” Mato gestured towards the stag harnessed to the sled. “Children, meet Little Stag.”

Upon further inspection, the stag wasn’t a ‘Mini Old Stag’ but a young stag beetle with a nob of a horn atop its head and a tattered grey scarf around its neck. The shell along the back of its abdomen opened briefly as a pair of brown tinged wings buzzed self-consciously.

“Greetings…” Little Stag mumbled, pawing at the ground with a gruff snort and looking away cooly.

Mato only laughed. “Hahaha! Ah, that’s Little Stag for you. Short with words but unrelenting in fiery spirit.”

Whilst the gaggle were occupied with Mato, they didn’t notice the figure trudging down the street through the snow, until Mato suddenly sensed the aura of a fierce warrior approaching and looked.

“Hm? Ah! There you are, my pupil. I just introducing your kin to my new companion over here, Little Stag.”

Ghost approached steadily, the cold snow went up past their ankles, making walking slow and uncomfortable; their cloak trailing behind them. They weren’t cold, not really anyways, though it did make their movements aggravatingly sluggish.

The young Knight first gave their siblings a quick glance over, confirming that they were fine, then looking up at Mato in acknowledgement before finally setting their gaze on the ‘Little Stag’.

The sight of the young stag beetle sent a small thrill of elation through Ghost, and they stared intently at Little Stag. It seemed like that the Old Stag was right about there still being other stags around.

Little Stag seemed slightly unnerved by Ghost’s stare, but tried to hide it under a guise of indifference, and pointedly looked away with a derisive snort.

Ghost was the king at appearing indifferent, so they were unfazed by the young buck’s attitude. 

However, they wondered as to where Hornet had gone off to. Everyone else in town had decided to simply stay indoors and wait out the snow, making Dirtmouth even gloomier than before. 

This would not do.

“Hm? What’s that look in your eyes, my pupil? By the looks of it, you seem to be hatching a plan of sorts.”

Indeed, Ghost was hatching a plan. Looking to Gritten, who had been hovering nearby whilst spitting fire balls at errant snowflakes, Ghost pointed at them with their nail – grabbing the flying creature’s attention.

“ _Mrrew…?_ ” The Grimmchild blinked quizzically.

***

Quirrel woke up to the smell of smoke, and when he opened his eyes he was alarmed to see only blackness, until he realized that it was just a stray sock covering his face.

He sat up, causing a cascade of newly sewn quilts and sweaters to tumble off of him, and the first thing he noticed was the absence of the children.

“Oh dear…” Quirrel groaned, standing up and hurriedly putting on the closest thing that could fit him. Which happened to be an especially gaudy over-sized sweater with a spider pattern adorning it.

With that situated, Quirrel quickly opened the door and stepped outside, only to stare in bewilderment and awe at the sight before him.

The ground around the immediate surroundings was almost completely clear of snow, and the town’s residences were milling about; talking to one another and setting up places to sit. Bretta was wearing a cute scarf and a shawl that ironically gave her the appearance of an old ladybug, and Elderbug was standing nearby, imparting his thoughts as always to anyone that would listen. Cornifer and Iselda were there as well, sitting side by side on a make-shift bench.

Nearby a juvenile stag was resting next to a sleigh, munching on something unidentifiable as it secretly eyeballed everyone.

It was also noticeably warmer than it had been last time Quirrel was out, but that might have been because now there was a ginormous bonfire raging in the center of the street.

Through it all, Quirrel gaped at the silhouette of Ghost standing in front of the fire, like a being from the bowels of the earth had come up to claim him.

Ghost seemed to sense they were being stared at and turned their gaze on Quirrel, and then – to his great relief – lifted a hand up and waved.

Quirrel couldn’t help but smile and wave back, even though he was still really concerned about what was going on and really wanted answers, answers he doubted Ghost would be able to give him.

“Hello there!” Mato, who had just come out of an alleyway with a large pile of timber held in one arm, greeted Quirrel with a wave of his free hand. “I see you’ve finally awaken. Quite a heavy sleeper you are; you missed all the fun of lighting this here fire!”

Quirrel noticed that the gaggle of Vessels were following behind Mato with bundles of burnable material. Though as soon as they saw Quirrel they instantly dropped their burdens and rushed over to dance excitedly around him.

“Haha, I suppose I was out longer than I expected,” Quirrel said apologetically, rubbing the back of his head. “Pardon me, but may I ask why you’ve decided to create a pyre in the middle of town?”

Mato shrugged, tossing the timber into the flames, causing sparks to fly and the fire to crackle. “Oh, the fire was my pupil’s idea. A brilliant idea it was, too! ‘Lightens up the town quite nicely, eh?” 

Quirrel blinked, “Your pupil?”

“Yes! The fierce little warrior right there.” Mato gestured to Ghost, “I suppose you two know each other seeing as how they left their kin in your care.”

“Yes, me and Ghost are good friends,” Quirrel replied, glancing over at the young Knight who seemed to be staring into the flames intently. Quirrel dearly hoped that they weren’t going through a phase of pyromania.

“Ah, so my pupil has a name!” Mato realized with a thoughtful hum. “They do not speak often, do they?”

Quirrel chuckled, taking a seat beside the fire. “More rather they don’t speak at all. I only learned of their title when their elder sibling told me it. Speaking of which… you haven’t happened to spy a figure cloaked in red recently, have you?”

“Can’t say I have,” Mato admitted with a shake of his head as he too decided to take a seat. “The only figures I know of who wear red is myself and my brothers! –Oh, and of course that flying, fire-spitting critter that follows the little ones around.”

“ _Mrrrerrew…_ ” Gritten mewed as it circled overhead above the pyre, apparently proud of its part in starting the fire.

“Hmm…” Quirrel pondered as to why Hornet would disappear out of the blue like this. What did she say before he had fallen asleep earlier?

_She had been knitting and sewing like there was no tomorrow. “I’m out of thread,” she had mumbled at some point, Quirrel was already mostly asleep at that point so he hadn’t really said anything before Hornet was already out the door and gone._

“She must be gathering more spools of thread,” Quirrel said aloud, “she probably took the Old Stag there if she plans to haul such a load all the way to Dirtmouth.”

The Little Stag perked up at this. “Old Stag? But there aren’t any stags left!” 

This time it was Elderbug who responded. “Oh, there are. The Old Stag has been running along the stag ways ever since I was a young lad, perhaps longer.”

Little Stag was suddenly on their hooves. “I have to see! I have to see this Old Stag for myself!” The Little Stag looked pleadingly at Mato.

Mato shrugged. “Well go on then! I’m certainly not stopping you from reuniting with your fellow kin.”

The Little Stag wasted now time in galloping away towards the Stag station, Ghost made to follow, but the young stag was much faster. Ghost stopped, energy flared into existence around their being, causing crystals to grow from the ground around them. Then, Ghost released that energy, shooting off like a cannon and leaving a gust of wind in their wake.

Everyone stared at the rapidly disappearing dot in the distance; Tiny waddling over to poke at the pink crystals that had been left behind.

“That young warrior, always rushing off.” The voice of Sly was heard as the old fly merchant waltzed up with a large sack dragging behind him. 

Mato startled so hard he nearly fell over as he covered his face. “GREAT NAILSAGE!?”

“Nice to see you too, Mato.” Sly responded with a roll of his eyes. 

Mato hastily stood up before bowing low to the ground. “Master, I-I swore never to lay eyes on you again until I have truly mastered your teachings! I had no knowledge that this was where you took up residence after me and my brothers struck out on our own!”

“Ah, quit your sputtering, Mato. If you want to pay your old master proper respect, then pay it in GEO!”

***

Meanwhile, Hornet was at the Distant Village, and was just finishing up loading the back of the Old Stag with large spooks of multicolored thread and baskets of sewing tools, when suddenly the Stag lurched and began running down the tunnel before she’d even given it the signal to go.  
“Ack!—A word of warning would have been nice!” Hornet snapped as she scrambled to the front seat before she could get thrown off.

“Apologies, miss,” the Old Stag said in his gruff voice, “but a stag bell has been rung, and I must answer its call.” 

Hornet sighed, she couldn’t very well order the stag to go against its life purpose, and though she would rather get back to Dirtmouth as quickly as possible, she supposed taking a detour wouldn’t hurt.

It turned out that Hornet’s worries were not needed as the Old Stag ended up taking the route straight back to Dirtmouth anyways.

Upon arrival, however, she saw Ghost standing beside another stag on the platform. 

The Old Stag skidded to a halt, and for a moment there was only silence as the two stags stared at each other. 

“Could it be…?” The Old Stag murmured in awe, but also a tinge of fear, as though he were afraid that in his old age he had begun to hallucinate. “Little one…is that another stag I see in your company?”

Ghost nodded, prodding Little Stag forward with the flat of their nail. Little Stag stumbled forward, suddenly self-conscious and shy in the face of an elder of their kind.

“G-Greetings…Old Stag, sir.” 

The Old Stag emitted a chuffing sort of chortle, his face filled with mirth. “Greetings to you as well, Little Stag. I am humbled that I now know for certain that other stags are still around.”

Little Stag pawed at the ground, daring to let a bit of happiness show in their eyes. “As am I, sir. As am I.”

***

After Hornet had unloaded the spools of thread with the help of Ghost, the two siblings left the station to allow the two stags some time to themselves.  
“I am not even going to inquire as to how you managed to find another Stag beetle,” Hornet said as soon as they’d made it outside, “you’ve accomplished so many impossible feats that it has ceased to surprise me at this point.”

Ghost did not respond, though if they could emote they would be grinning like an idiot. So instead they simply tilted their head and bumped Hornet’s side with one of their horns before running up ahead and around the corner.

“Hey!” Hornet shouted indignantly before giving chase after them, but as soon as she turned the corner she stopped in her tracks.

She saw what had become of the street in front of their cottage. Nearly all of the Town’s residences were there, sitting around a ridiculously huge bonfire that was warm enough to melt the snow off the ground in the street. Everyone was chittering amongst themselves like they were having a gathering or town event.

Quirrel noticed Hornet, and waved at her. “Hello there, Hornet! Finally returned to join the fun?”

Hornet turned her gaze on him. “What is going on? Who’s idea was it to start a fire in the middle of town?!”

Quirrel looked around, then shrugged. “I suppose we’re having a sort of celebration? As for who started it, look no further than our short friend here.”

Ghost was currently being swarmed by their siblings who were still garbed in their newly knitted sweaters and blankets. Gritten dropped a similar sweater atop the young Knight’s head for them to put on. 

Hornet face-palmed. “Right, of course they did.” She walked away to go and store the large spool of thread she was still carrying inside the cottage, but not without shooting over her shoulder. “Just don’t make this an annual thing! The last thing we need is to set the town on fire!” She gave Gritten a particularly dirty look.

“ _Mrrew…_ ” was all Gritten had to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it done, im tired. time to hibernate.


	12. Metamorphosis: Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aka Growing through the pain Part 2. but whatever.

Time had passed, the cold season that had taken over the surface was beginning to ebb away and the snow gradually melted until only a few piles of the stuff remained here and there.

Mato and Little Stag had gone back up to their home on the Howling Cliffs as soon as the frost began to thaw, though Mato promised they would come and visit again in the near future.

Eventually, things in Dirtmouth began to wind down from the initial excitement of the snowfall and things seemed to be returning to normal.

That is, until Ghost suddenly sat up and realized…they felt absolutely horrible.

They didn’t understand why exactly, they just woke up early before their other siblings and almost immediately noticed that something was wrong.

It wasn’t like how they felt when severely wounded, _that_ type of pain was more than familiar to them; the feeling of the void substance holding their body together curling away from them like smoke as it seeped from the cracks in their shell. No, this pain was like a numb ache; they felt stiff and lethargic, their head was a heavy weight upon their shoulders and more than once they had paused to sit down whilst their siblings played nearby.

It was during one of these instances when Ghost had opted to sit on the bench instead of stand alert that Quirrel took notice.

“Hello there, Ghost!” Quirrel chirped in greeting, sliding in to sit beside the Knight on the bench. “I see you have decided to rest easy for a bit, huh? Usually you’re standing watch while the children play.”

Ghost – as usual – did not respond, they hadn’t even turned to look at Quirrel to indicate that they’d at least acknowledged his presence, instead they were just staring down at their lap with an unfocused gaze. 

Quirrel tilted his head in concern. Whilst many would have assumed that the young Knight was merely dozing, Quirrel’s intuition told him otherwise. There was something about their posture that seemed rigid and uncomfortable, which was a strange sight indeed, as Quirrel could not recall a time were he’d witnessed the seemingly unflappable warrior displaying any form of discomfort at all.

“Does something trouble you, Ghost? You seem a little down.”

Ghost slightly lifted their head, peering wearily up at Quirrel at the edge of their peripheral. They wanted to say that something was wrong, but didn’t know how to convey it in any way that Quirrel would understand. They wanted to say that their body hurt, but how can one communicate such without a voice to moan in pain or cry for help?

That fact alone, made a slight tremble run through Ghost’s body as they quickly looked away, the small movement alone caused a twinge of pain. They reflexively reached behind themselves to worry at the taut feeling along their back, just underneath their shoulder blade where they couldn’t reach, and quickly decided against it as doing so only caused more twinges of pain from moving.

Quirrel made a sound of inquiry, lifting a hand as if to do…something. Ghost wasn’t sure what the other bug’s intentions were, and on impulse tried to straightened up at attention, but found that they couldn’t on account of their shell just being too stiff; instead only succeeding making a slight jerk in Quirrel’s direction. They watched as Quirrel gingerly rested a hand on their back, feeling around as if to pinpoint an injury of sorts, but found none.

Then, to Ghost’s further confusion, Quirrel rested the back of his hand against the forehead of their mask.

“Well, you aren’t running a temperature…” Quirrel finally said after a long pause. “Do you feel ill at all, my friend? Sick, perhaps?”

Ghost starred blankly at Quirrel. Sick? The Radiance was gone, and the plague along with her. Why would Quirrel even suggest that they were becoming infected? Unless…he was referring to another type of sickness.

It was then that one of Ghost’s siblings trotted up to them. Tiny had evidently found something of interest and wanted to show it to them.

The Tiniest held up what appeared to be a brown dandelion. A small flower that often popped up around Dirtmouth in small clusters from time to time. The flower itself wasn’t very vibrant or colorful, and was in fact more akin to a weed than an actual flower, but Tiny was excited about it anyways. 

Quirrel couldn’t help but chuckle at the Tiniest’s enthusiasm, and Ghost’s posture shifted upon their sibling’s approach, as if the young Knight’s mood had brightened slightly when Tiny eagerly held out the flower for Ghost to see.

Ghost reached out a hand to touch the flower, and that’s when Quirrel’s amusement suddenly dropped as he caught a glimpse of something that made his blood run cold.

He remained silent, watching as the two siblings interacted, before Tiny eventually scampered off to go back to playing with Two and Three. 

As soon as Tiny was gone, Quirrel dared to speak. 

“Ghost…can I see your hand, please?” He asked quietly.

The Knight glanced up at him, confused by the sudden change in Quirrel’s tone, but complied and held their hand out for the other to take.

As soon as their hand appeared from beneath the confines of their cloak, Quirrel’s suspicions were confirmed as he stared at the various cracks spiderwebbing across the young Knight’s dark shell.

He hadn’t noticed it at first, on account of Ghost’s shell being so dark that the cracks were almost completely concealed by the blackness, but Quirrel could plainly feel the hairline fractures now that he was holding their hand. He could only guess at how bad the rest of their body was.

“Ghost, h-how long have you been like this?” Quirrel asked tentatively as he continued to stare. He noted that though their shell was cracked, they weren’t bleeding as if they were wounded, however their was a slight dampness thinly covering the surface – almost like perspiration.

It took a few seconds for Ghost to respond, as if their mind had wandered off at some point and was having trouble recentering itself in the present. But eventually they managed to give a brief shake of their head, which caused spots to flare in their vision as they suddenly felt lightheaded.

Trembling, they made as if to reach out to Quirrel, then promptly slumped forward. Quirrel quickly caught them before they could fall off the bench and cradled them in his arms.

“Ghost? Ghost! Are you alright?” Quirrel’s worry increased, not knowing what to do or how to help his small friend.

But Ghost didn’t hear him, instead curling up and resting their head on Quirrel’s shoulder as if intending to take a nap. Yes…a nap sounded nice… just a quick nap… then maybe the pain would go away… they just needed a bit of rest.

***

It was a normal night in Dirtmouth, the wind whistling through the gloom of the town and the lights of lumflies flickering serenely as the small town’s tenants went about their business as usual.

All seemed well, at least, that was what Hornet initially believed when she strode down the street; having just returned from another one of her ventures into the depths of Hallownest.

She had intended to seek out the White Lady in the heart of the Queen’s Gardens. But to her chagrin, her way had been barred by the shadowed gate, which still remained active for reasons unknown to her. 

Hornet knew of only one being that could pass through the shadow gates, and that was Ghost, who possessed the shade cloak. And Ghost was the exact reason why Hornet had wanted to speak to the White Lady.

She had wanted to question the old queen about the Vessels; how they grew, and whether or not she should be concerned about certain things. After all, the White Lady had birthed the countless Vessels that were inevitably discarded in favor of the one Pure Vessel. That one was allowed to grow, and surely the White Lady was there whilst it matured. 

But it seemed as though Hornet would not get her answers from the old queen now–– not whilst the shadow gates remained active. She could have Ghost go, but Ghost wasn’t able to pose the questions they wanted answers to, and Hornet had little faith in Ghost actually telling her anything about it even if the White Lady did answer the questions about their stages of maturity.

It was around this time during Hornet’s reverie that she suddenly sensed the small, rapidly approaching pitter-patter of little feet, and she paused in her stride to look in the direction of the sound. 

Down an alleyway, she caught sight of three figures running towards her, and when they passed under the light of a nearby lamp, she instantly recognized the white faces of the gaggle of siblings. But…something was off.

As they got closer, Hornet realized with growing trepidation that Ghost wasn’t anywhere in sight, and the Vessels had an air of panic to them as they rushed up to her and began frantically tugging the hem of her cloak.

“What are you three doing out here at this hour? Where is Ghost?” Hornet asked, watching in confusion as Two danced anxiously in place, whilst Tiny and Three continued to tug her in the direction that they’d come. 

Hornet glanced down the alleyway, then back at the silently distraught children. Tiny had given up tugging and resorted to trying to push their much taller sister, causing Hornet to stumble forward slightly before she merely shifted her stance to accommodate. But never-the-less she got the point.

“Alright, alright! Take me to where you wish to go.”

Hornet let herself be tugged along by her three younger siblings, ducking down the alleyway between the abandoned domiciles of Dirtmouth, and she quickly realized the path they were on was actually a shortcut that went straight to the street where Quirrel’s cottage was. The lights were dark in the windows, save for a faint flickering of light coming from the upper floor.

Hornet got a sinking feeling in her stomach as Two rushed over to the door before shouldering it open, and Hornet found herself quickly herded inside. After Two kicked the door shut behind them, all three of the Vessels led Hornet up the stairs, where they stopped in front of a door.

Hornet could see light seeping out from the bottom of the doorframe, and whilst the gaggle fidgeted anxiously beside her, she took the liberty to knock.

“Come in.” A hushed voice called from the other side, and Hornet wasted no time in pushing the door open, revealing a small room with standard furnishings. The light that Hornet had seen had been from a lit candle resting on a nightstand.

Quirrel was sitting on a stool beside a bed, and as Hornet moved into the room, she realized that the old bug was tending to patient.

That patient was Ghost.

They were shaking, bundled up in multiple quilts, and their eyes stared sightlessly at nothing as Quirrel dabbed at their forehead with a wet cloth.

“What’s wrong with them?” Hornet demanded softly, moving to stand by the bedside next to Quirrel, the children following at her heels.

“I’m not quite sure,” Quirrel admitted, rubbing the back of his head. “They were just fine not long ago, but then I noticed that they seemed off; as though their limbs were too stiff to move. Then shortly after they collapsed and wouldn’t wake up. I had to carry them here.” It was clear by the hoarseness of Quirrel’s tone that he was doing his best to keep his composure for the sake of Ghost and the children, but his nerves were beginning to fray. “They’ve been unresponsive ever since, I’m afraid.”

Hornet’s eyes narrowed with worry, and she reached out to rest a hand on Ghost’s crown, only to flinch back like she’d been burned. Their body was deathly warm, yet they were shivering as though they were freezing.

“They keep trembling, and at first I thought they were cold, but they’re practically burning to the touch.” Quirrel continued to ramble on about what Hornet had already deduced on her own; perhaps he was merely doing it as a means to distract himself from falling into a state of hopelessness. “Maybe they’re sick. Can Vessels get ill? Bugs rarely get sick, other than the infection there isn’t much information left documenting other sicknesses let alone any records of study regarding the them. And their shell is riddled with fractures, but they aren’t bleeding or appear to be wounded externally…”

“We should take them to the Hot Spring.” Hornet said, drawing herself up and turning to Quirrel expectantly.

“Well, yes, yes, I suppose the hot springs would—Oh! Right! The Hot Springs, of course!” Quirrel leapt up from his seat with renewed enthusiasm. “Why didn’t I think of that before? Hornet you’re a genius.” 

Hornet blinked at the unexpected exclamation, but shook her head; more important matters were at hand. 

As quickly as possible, Quirrel had bundled Ghost up in another dozen or so blankets before scooping the shivering Knight up and slinging his satchel over one shoulder. 

“Alright, Let’s go!” 

Hornet nodded and together, with the gaggle in tow, she led the way to the stag-station where they loaded onto the Old Stag and were soon on their way to the Crossroads.

***

As the Old Stag carried them towards their destination, Ghost continued to tremble in Quirrel’s arms, vibrating like a bumblebee caught in a blizzard, and all Quirrel could do was gently rock the fevered bundle in hopes to bring them some form of comfort. He wasn’t even sure if the little Ghost was conscious; perhaps they’d been unconscious from the moment they’d first collapsed. Quirrel just didn’t know for certain anymore, and the old bug could only sit there and hope that the healing properties of the Hot Spring would cure the young Knight of whatever ailed them.

***

The trip from Dirtmouth to the Crossroads wasn’t very long, especially when riding the Stag, but to Hornet it felt as though it had taken an eternity to get there.

Once they finally stopped, everyone scrambled to get off the Stag, and without a moment to lose, they all rushed wordlessly towards the cavern where the Hot Spring lay.

The Hollow Knight was there, still resting in the water to quell the burning etched deep into their shell. It didn’t mind being alone, in fact the Hollow one was quite used to being alone for prolonged periods of time, and it found that being alone was especially nice when one didn’t have an enraged Light being contained within itself. 

The solitude was peaceful, with the only sound being the gently flowing water and the hiss of steam rising into the air.

However, the tranquil atmosphere was suddenly disturbed by echoing footsteps rabidly making their approach. The Hollow one could both feel and hear them through the vibrations running through the stone floor and up their horns. It found the sensation interesting, especially since losing its sight to the scorching Light; all of the Hollow one’s other senses were amplified.

The large Vessel reluctantly lifted its bandaged head, the water trickling down their visage to drip nosily onto the stone floor as they twisted about to face the general direction of the cavern’s entrance. It tilted its head in bemusement; it seemed almost as though the footsteps were not coming from one creature, but many, each different sizes and gaits, though all were clearly in a hurry. 

The Hollow one tensed minutely as whoever it was burst through the entrance in a panicked flurry, and it shifted slightly when it sensed one of the creatures stop near the edge of the pool, followed by the sound of fabric being fussed with.

The Hollow Knight was utterly confused, and wheezed a sound akin to a vengefly king dying in the distance. 

“Sorry, big brother,” the sound of Hornet’s voice came from somewhere nearby. “Our sibling is in need of restoration in the Spring’s waters; a terrible sickness seems to have taken hold of them.”

A sharp gurgling hiss rose up from the Hollow one’s chest at this news. Their sibling was sick? But Vessel’s didn’t get sick…

It wanted to convey this, but could only emit a cacophony of sound like air passing over a grater as they slowly shook their head from side to side. _Vessels did not get sick._

But Hornet’s attention was turned elsewhere; watching as Quirrel unwrapped Ghost from their bundle of blankets beside the edge of the pool, only to gasp in shock and mounting horror at what was revealed.

The last of the blankets were stained with blackness, and Ghost’s curled up body was oozing like wax from a burning candle; dark tears were even leaking from their eyes, which still stared unseeing into nothingness.

Hornet was stiff with uncomprehending dread, the three children huddling together at her feet as they stared fearfully at their _melting_ sibling, and Quirrel was visibly shaking with horror.

“Wh-what is happening to them?!” Hornet exclaimed, her voice tight with a type of fear that was only reserved for the ones she cared most about. She looked desperately at Quirrel for answers; answers that he didn’t have.

“I don’t know…” Quirrel replied in a hushed voice, not taking his eyes off of the once unwavering Knight, now reduced to a quivering huddled form drenched in a growing pool of their own blood. 

With shaking hands, Quirrel reached out to grasp onto them, intending to submerge them into the water as fast as possible, but as soon as he touched the Knight he recoiled with a shout of pain.

Ghost temperature had began to steadily increase at some point during the ride to the Crossroads, and Quirrel must have not noticed due to the many layers of blankets he’d wrapped the Knight in. But now Ghost temperature exceeded what was considered safe by bugs’ standards and straight into boiling point, or at least hot enough to actually _scald_ a bug’s shell on contact.

Hornet quickly rushed to Quirrel, inspecting the damage as she swiftly grabbed the few quilts that were clean and tore them into makeshift bandages. “Here, dunk your hands into the water.” She instructed.

Quirrel tried to wave her off, more worried about Ghost than his own wellbeing. “N-no, no, I’m fine! Just a bit burned, ’tis all.” He shot her a shaky smile, even though Hornet clearly didn’t buy it. His hands hurt like hell, but he didn’t care right now, Ghost was probably in more pain than he was.

Speaking of which, the Hollow Knight had extricated itself from the pool, the gaggle of Vessels skittering out of the way as the larger Vessel sat down heavily upon the bank. 

With its one remaining arm, it felt blindly around for a second before coming into contact with their sibling’s pitiful form. With a deftness and care that belied their crippled state, the Hollow Knight picked up the younger Knight. Ghost was so small compared to the adult Vessel that they practically fit in the palm of its hand. 

There was a sizzling sound as the superheated Void burned the Hollow one’s shell, but it hardly felt like anything more than a vague tingling sensation when compared to the searing heat of the Radiance.

The gathered group watched as the Hollow Knight laid Ghost down into the pool of the spring, the gaggle flinching back as the sizzling sound intensified into a loud steaming hiss as Ghost’s body made contact with the water.

The Hollow Knight withdrew, letting the young Knight’s body float in the middle of the pool as steam and flecks of bright SOUL motes rose into the air, obscuring Ghost’s form from view in a cloud of mist.

Huddling together at the side of the pool, they all watched in earnest as the mist became intermingled with wisps of void-like vapor.

Then the Hollow Knight seemed to sense something and shakily got to it’s feet, before trudging towards the exit, momentarily drawing Hornet’s attention away from Ghost.

“Where are you going?” She asked, indignation rising in her tone as she watched her elder sibling disappear down the corridor. With a sigh of exasperation, Hornet extricated herself from the clingy pile Quirrel and the trio of Vessels had become, and after a short word reassuring that she would be right back – Quirrel only nodding numbly in response without taking his eyes away from the pool – she swiftly followed after the big Vessel.

Hornet feared that her big brother would catch their horns on the ceiling, or worse would bump into something due to their blind state, but she was surprised to find that Hollow moved fairly well among the stone trodden paths of the Crossroads.

“Just where do you think you are going? Come back here!” Hornet string-shot her nail and zipped to catch up with the large Vessel, who was ignoring her protests as they continued on their set path. Hornet had no choice but to follow.

Eventually, she realized where Hollow was heading, and couldn’t help but wonder why they felt the need to come to Ancestral Mound of all places. What did they hope to find here?

“Oho! Is that you, Scarred one?” The old voice of the Snail Shaman greeted the Hollow Knight with their usual chuckle, as their attention was drawn away from a bubbling cauldron in the middle of the room. “And what’s this? You’ve brought the Red one along with you! Ooohhh, perhaps you have need of something?”

Hollow made a whistling grumble as they ambled on past the old shaman and into the corridor beyond the gate, leaving Hornet alone with the snail.

“Pardon for the intrusion, old snail. My sibling seems to believe there is something of use in this Mound of yours.” 

The Snail Shaman waved her off, chuckling. “Oh, I know, I know. The Scarred one often drops by to visit me, or play with the little baldurs.”

Hornet blinked in surprise. “They have? I was under the impression that they could not navigate the Crossroads without assistance.” 

“Ohohoho! Nonsense, that one is much too stubborn to stay still for long. Reminds me of the little shadow…”

The Hollow Knight suddenly reappeared, crouching so as not to hit their head on the low ceiling of the corridor, and clutched with one arm was several Lifeseeds squirming in their grasp. 

Hornet suddenly understood her elder sibling’s intention, and hurried over to collect one or two Lifeseeds that had managed to slip out of the Hollow one’s grasp, before following them out of the Ancestral Mound with a quick farewell to the Snail Shaman.

“Good luck to you, oho! You’ll certainly need it.” The Snail Shaman said cryptically as they left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they'll be fiiiiiiine.
> 
> oh and uh....Gritten is––Gritten is locked in a cupboard...yeah.


	13. Metamorphosis: Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternative title: Voices and Marbles

Pain…darkness…the only sound Ghost could hear was the thrumming pulse of their own heartbeat roaring within their head. They couldn’t feel anything other then the vague sensation of being submerged in liquid.

They couldn’t remember anything, their thoughts were as empty as their time out in the wasteland. Were they in the wasteland now…? They didn’t remember going there… or were they asleep? They couldn’t see anything.

They felt as though they had forgotten something important, but no matter how hard they tried, they just couldn’t recall anything. A welling sensation of distress began crawling through them, as they began to struggle.

 _Where are they…?_ A voice in their mind cried out. Was it their own?

_Gone…all gone…where did they go…?_

The pain intensified. It felt like iron hot claws were shredding red burning lines of agony through their shell, flaying their innards and slicing into their mask with sharp lances of pain and fire.

Yet despite all the pain, the vast emptiness within the heart of the Void made the pain seem miniscule. Insignificant. It was only pain. They’d felt pain before, worse than this. Both physical and emotional. The sight of seeing Cloth impaled by the vicious claw of the Traitor Lord. The feeling of their mask being bashed into the cold stone floor again and again by the False Champion. Seeing the defeated husk of the Broken Vessel reach out to them, and dying before they’d rushed to embrace their lost kin. The pain of the Radiance’s holy blades slashing through them like butter. So many trials they had endured, and beaten the odds. 

They would survive this.

Then Ghost became aware of a new sound, it sounded…like humming… a familiar tune that was pleasant and filled the young Knight with a sense of joy.

 

_Ohhh, bury the Knight with her velvet gloves…_

_Bury the thief with the one she loved…_

_Bury the priest in her tattered gown…_

_Then bury the beggar and his golden….croooooown!_

 

***  
Meanwhile, outside near the edge of the Hot Spring, Three, Two and Tiny were seated on the floor of the the cavern clapping happily as the little miner finished the first part of her song.

“Ha ha ha, do you like it? It’s one of my f-favourites! Though I k-keep forgetting the words. So I usually hum it.” Myla rubbed the back of her head sheepishly, before looking hopefully to the crystalline structure in the middle of the pool. “Do you think th-they heard it, t-too?” 

“I am certain they did,” Quirrel said from Myla’s other side, “Thank you, Myla.”

After the defeat of the Radiance, a lot of the infected husks had died, except for the few who hadn’t been infected for too long. Myla happened to be one of the lucky ones.

It had been a few nights since Ghost had been submerged in the pool, and as time went on, a thin protective structure had formed around the Knight’s body. 

It wasn’t exactly like a cocoon, at least none that Quirrel had ever seen. It was more like a free standing crystalline chrysalis, pale, yet thick enough to conceal the occupant inside. 

Hornet and the Hollow Knight had taken to dousing the Knight’s form with Lifeblood to help them along with with whatever exactly it was that they were going through.

Quirrel suspected that Ghost was going through a sort of transformation, and from the way the Hollow Knight reacted to the predicament seemed to imply that the adult Vessel had gone through a similar process as well.

Quirrel realized that he had never taken the time to get to know more about the Hollow Knight personally. Perhaps it was out of intimidation – after all the adult Vessel was taller than any other being Quirrel had ever seen when standing at its full heigh, not to mention those gruesome scars. 

Quirrel didn’t think of himself to be the type of bug who’d judge one by their appearance, but there was something about the Hollow Knight that put him on edge.

Even without eyes, Quirrel had caught the Hollow one angling their visage in his direction, as if staring intently at him; as if it _knew_ him from a past life…a life he’d forgotten. 

Maybe that’s why Quirrel felt so uneasy around the Hollow Knight. For once, Quirrel felt wary of pursuing a thread of knowledge. 

It was one thing when learning about others and discovering fascinating facts about places, it was an entirely other thing when it came to discovering secrets about himself. He’d once yearned to regain his memory of his past life, but after everything he’d been through, he had long since accepted that such memories would never truly return to him. He wanted to turn over a new leaf; a fresh start; a new beginning; it was one of the reasons why he’d given up his nail. 

The idea that the Hollow Knight might have known Quirrel from the past – before he was sent away from Hallownest with Monomon’s mask – made him uncomfortable. How much had he changed from the bug he once was before losing his memories?

He had been born in Hallownest, or at least had lived there since he was a young grub. To have his entire life stripped away once he stepped out into the wasteland… it was naive to think that he would have come back the same bug he once was.

As Quirrel’s thoughts swirled around and around in his head, his mind drifted to his time under the tutelage of Monomon. The madam had worked with the Pale King and played a part in perfecting the Vessels’ design with the necessary components to seal away the Old Light. 

Had he too played a part in the King’s plans? Did he standby as the Pale King left hundreds of children to die at the bottom of the Ancient Basin? Had he also treated the Vessels like emotionless automatons at the time? If so, did the Hollow Knight know? And was that why it stared at him so intently? Did it resent him or did it blame him, at least in part?

The grim speculations weighed down on Quirrel like a depressing fog, so much so that not even Myla’s singing could lift his spirits. 

Instead, he watched on as the gaggle silently cheered on the little miner bug, bobbing their heads to the tune, and wondered…

 

_“Ohhh, bury the knight with her broken nail,_

_“bury the lady, so lovely and pale!”_

_“Bury the priest in his tattered gown,_

_“then bury the beggar with his shining crooown!”_

 

How much had he’d known? Had he known of the Vessels and their fate? Or had he been kept in the dark on the matters regarding the Vessels’ origins?

Quirrel was suddenly roused from his troubled thoughts when he became aware of a distinct presence behind him. 

Cautiously, he looked over his shoulder and found that the Hollow Knight had at some point entered the chamber without him noticing, and was now siting right beside him. Its visage tilted down at him.

Seeing the tall Vessel silently looming over him caused Quirrel to jump in surprise; just barely managing to stop himself from emitting a startled ‘eek!’ as he swiftly struggled to regain a sense of composure.

“Ah, uh, h-hello there!” He chuckled nervously, “you must be awfully adept in the art of stealth, haha. I–didn’t even see you come in!”

The Hollow Knight did not respond, making Quirrel feel even more nervous and he suppressed the impulse to fidget.

As the seconds dragged on to the point where the Hollow Knight’s unseeing gaze became unbearable. The Hollow Knight finally shifted, angling its head away from Quirrel to face instead on the gaggle of siblings playing a game that Myla had introduced to them.

Quirrel let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. Even without eyes, the Hollow Knight’s stare rivaled Ghost’s chilling gaze by a landslide.

**Ar͝e ͝y͟ou̴ a͢f̧ra̢id…͟?̨**

Quirrel stiffened, and after a beat, he risked a glance at the Hollow Knight, but it was still facing towards the pool and the children. 

**Y̕o̢u s͞h̶o̶ul̛d̵ be̕…̕**

Quirrel felt his stomach drop, and his mouth had gone dry as he tried to comprehend what was happening. “P-p-pardon?”

**Ņe̷ve̷rmind…̶’̷T̵w̸ąs̴ y̕o͢u w̨ho̴ s̴ho̢w̧n̵ ki̕n̛d͏ne͢s̵s ͞in a̸ ̸l͢and bere͟f͞t o҉f such̷…af̨te̷r a͠l̸l…͏**

Quirrel blinked several times, baffled and extremely confused, and for a moment all he could do was sputter uselessly. “I, uh…w-what? Y-y-you can– you can speak?!” His voice reached an embarrassingly high pitch near the end of that sentence, causing Two and Three to glance up.

Hollow casually waved them off whilst Quirrel was stuttering, and the two children went back to focusing on their game with Myla and Tiny.

**Not̷ i̛n̨ the ̴same̛ ͜s̷ȩns͢e͠ as ̛mo̕s̴t…̴I h̡ȩa̕rke̴n͝ you ͜frm͡o̷ ne͜bo̕y̧d ͢t̛hę ̵i͟d͠o͢vf o e͡ht ͡y̨sa͝bs…̢**

Quirrel shut his eyes and reflexively clutched at the sides of his head in response to the sudden garbling static that filled his head. But as suddenly as it began, it ceased and Quirrel looked up at the Hollow Knight incredulously.

The Hollow Knight finally tilted its head slightly in his direction.

**Şo̶r҉ry̨…I d͏id̕ ̧n̨ơt me̸an̕ to҉ ͘frig͢h͏t͡en ̢y̷o͠u…͡**

 

“Ah– uh, no, no! I was just startled, tis all. Uh, may I ask how long you’ve been able to speak?” Quirrel asked, feeling more dubious than afraid now. 

**Some͏ ti͠me͞ ag͡o̴… ̨T̶i̴me ̕is͞… a fickl̢e̡ thing…͜I̵ had ̷n͡ǫt̢ tr̷i̴ed ͜u̕nt̢il no͘w̷…**

Quirrel actually squinted at the Hollow Knight. “So… am I right to assume that Hornet does not know about this then?”

The Hollow Knight dipped their head slightly in affirmation, to which Quirrel crossed his arms. He wasn’t sure why, but he suddenly felt rather peeved about something just then. 

“Why choose to speak to me then?” It was a reasonable question; why would the Hollow Knight choose Quirrel, a complete stranger, over someone like Hornet who was their half-sister. Unless of course…the Hollow Knight knew something he didn’t.

**You̴ and̶ ̕m̸y̢ ͜sibli͘n͠gs ͝ar̡e͏ ̷c͞l͠os͞e…c͜l͘o̡ser th҉n͏ą I hţuoh̶tg͏ b̸ug̶f̨olk ̧a̧n͘d͝ ̕Vȩs̷sels ͞ev͘e̸r҉ co̢ul̕d ̨be̶…̢**

“Oh,” Quirrel blinked, his initial suspicion giving way to surprise. He wasn’t quite sure what the Hollow Knight meant by that, such was made harder by the eery static that seemed to garble some of the words into indecipherability. 

For several moments, an awkward silence fell between the two of them, until Quirrel gained the courage to speak again.

“So…from what I’ve observed, I’m guessing you probably know more about what’s happening to Ghost than anyone else.”

**Ye̡s…**

There was a pause, to which Quirrel pressed: “And just what exactly _is_ happening to them?”

**F͏irs̡t şt͢ąg̸e̶ ͠o̕f th͟e̶ ̸męt͜a̡mo̧r͞ph̕oşis͏ ̡i͏nt̸o͝ ͘an ͢a̴dul̛t V͠e̸ss͘el…Th̕e ̧M̡o҉lt̢i̛n͝g P͠ha͏se…**

Well, that was helpful. Quirrel had already guessed as much, but it was nice to have confirmation. So this was the _first_ stage of a Vessel’s metamorphosis, that meant that more was to come. Quirrel had assumed that it had taken the Hollow Knight decades to get to its current size, but perhaps that notion was incorrect, and the reality was a much quicker process. 

It made sense. Hallownest couldn’t have waited decades for the Pure Vessel to mature, there wouldn’t have been enough time before the infection had taken over everyone. It was reasonable to assume that, in the wake of such imminent destruction, that the Pale King would have sought to speed up the process.

Quirrel shuddered to think of what lengths the Pale King had went to in an attempt to preserve his failing kingdom. 

“How long will this Molting Phase take?” Quirrel inquired, feeling more comfortable when it was he who as asking the questions rather than the other way around. 

The Hollow Knight replied with a forlorn wheeze, followed by a movement that Quirrel assumed was meant to be a shrug. 

**I wa͢ş no͢t co͡n̶sciou̷s͡ ̕du͢riņg m̡i͞n̸e…̢ ͜Fa͡the̕r͟ d͜eem̴e͞d͞ it ̡u̶nimp̨ơr̨t҉a̶n͞t to įnfơrm ͝m̵e͏ h͘ow lo̶n̨g…**

“Haha! I win!” Myla suddenly announced, drawing both Quirrel and the Hollow Knight’s attention away from their conversation.

Two looked stumped at how such a thing came to pass, Three was patting the ground with both hands in a clearly determined gesture for a rematch, and Tiny was already rearranging the pieces of various pebbles and crystal crumbs on the floor.

“Don’t feel b-bad, Two! I’m sure y-you’ll win this next round!” Myla encouraged the still dumbfounded Two. “C’mon! Y-you can have f-first t-turn, yeah?” 

This seemed to bring Two out of their daze, and with a resoluteness to their posture, the reached out and flicked the pebble. The others watching as said pebble hit two crystal crumbs out of the circle drawn into the floor.

Tiny and Three silently cheered as the game began anew.

Quirrel couldn’t help but smile in amusement at the children’s antics, and he got the feeling that the adult Vessel found the scene endearing as well – with the way they appeared to cock their head to the side, almost comically.

Then the sound of footsteps was heard approaching, and Quirrel looked over his shoulder just in time to see Hornet walk in, looking both irritated and like she was ready to stab something. 

“Hello, Hornet!” Quirrel waved in greeting, and as she approached, he noticed there was soot smudged in the middle of her forehead. “Where did you get that from?”

“Pardon?” Hornet squinted in confusion until Quirrel motioned to his forehead, to which she lifted a hand to her own and flinched upon touching the scorch mark. “Oh.”

“Did an Aspid catch you unawares?” Quirrel guessed, but Hornet merely glowered.

“ _No._ I was assaulted by that atrocious little hell-spawn. The pathetic thing got itself locked in one of the cupboards after eating all the truffle cakes, and when I opened the cupboard, the demon decided right at that moment to wake up from its food-induced coma and jump me! The little hellion actually spat fire at me.”

Quirrel blinked, not sure if he should be concerned or simply laugh. “Wow.”

**Wḩat’̵s a͠ ̷h͏ell̷io̕n̶…?**

As Hornet stiffened – looking sharply around for the source of the voice, Quirrel was reminded of the Hollow Knight’s presence, and its sudden ability to speak telepathically.

Well, explaining this new development to Hornet was going to be fun….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the hollow knight's words are a pain to hear, read, and write. the suffering is mutual.


	14. Intermission: Tremors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because titling this chapter Metamorphosis: Part 3 would be lying. Since technically nothing really happens...

To say that Hornet took the news well, would be a complete lie.

She did not take it well, in fact she spent the next twenty-minutes ranting at her taller sibling for torturing her with weeks of listening to nothing but their deathly wheezing and gurgling when they could have used actual words all along. Even though the Hollow Knight tried to tell her that they only recently realized their ability, but Hornet didn’t want to hear any of it. 

She was stressed, frazzled, and if she had hair she would have been pulling it out by the roots. Caring and worrying about her half-siblings was _hard._ And to top it all off, she still had her duties as the Protector of Hallownest to attend to. She did not plan on becoming the new monarch or anything as ambitious as that, but as the _Princess_ of Deepnest, she had a responsibility to uphold. She owed her mother that much.

Hallownest was in a vulnerable state as it was, and she had to prepare for what was to come. Now that the power that had been keeping the kingdom in perpetual stasis was gone, Hallownest was vulnerable to the whims of change.

What worried Hornet most, was what effects such a thing shall bring.

She was currently doing her rounds patrolling the breadth of Hallownest, and was traversing the City of Tears when all of a sudden the ground trembled.

It was a brief tremor, only lasting a split second, but it was enough to shake the passage way Hornet was in and give her pause.

She blinked, resting a hand on the wall and glancing briefly about her surroundings. “Strange…” She hoped that wasn’t a sign that the building’s infrastructure was weakening. The City had been gradually giving way to entropy with no one around to maintain the water beaten towers, and she suspected that soon it would crumble entirely under the weight of all that water spilling from the Blue Lake. 

If the Capitol of Hallownest was to remain standing, Hornet would have to enlist the help of the Menderbugs. Although they were quite the elusive bunch, and were strangely secretive.

Tracking even one of them down, let alone pinpointing where they meet, would be quite the chore. 

Hornet would have asked Ghost to assist her in hunting down one of the Menderbugs, she knew that with the determined Knight’s help the job would be done much quicker and easier. However, since Ghost had gone off and turned into a crystalis, that plan had been put on hold.

She only hoped that the City’s infrastructure would endure and not spontaneously decide to collapse on top of her until then. 

As Hornet exited the corridor and into the rainy street, she hopped off the platform and ducked into the passage way leading to the broken elevator chamber. She had not been in this particular part of the City in a while, and wanted to check on something – or more specifically: someone.

 

As Hornet zipped down the elevator shaft using her thread and needle, she alighted gracefully upon the lip of an alcove on the side of the wall, where she stepped forward into a new chamber that was connected to the Waterway.

The chamber was also filled with filth and waste that Hornet had no desire to tread through any time soon, which was why she chose this alternate route rather than go through the Waterways; at least this entrance to the Dung Defender’s lair the floor was clear of filth near main pipe that controlled the acid levels in the Grove.

Hornet stopped in her tracks when she spotted the Dung Defender, formerly known as Knight Ogrim, crouched nearby. 

He had his back turned to her, and appeared to be staring intently at the floor, with one claw resting upon the stone. 

Seeing this odd behavior had caught Hornet off guard, and for several seconds she just stood there staring at the former Knight with a blank expression.

Finally, she broke the silence with a cough. “Am I interrupting something—“ she began to say, but was surprised again when Ogrim raised his other claw; signaling for silence. 

The dung beetle then proceeded to press the side of his face against the ground, his antenna twitching as if he were listening to something.

Hornet, for lack of a better word, was completely dumbfounded by his antics. Though she never talked long with the former Knight, she knew very well that the Dung Defender was a bombastically loud character who was full to the brim with more bravado than a small army. 

To see him so focused in…whatever it was he was doing… put her on edge, but she remained silent.

That silence didn’t last long, as soon as the dung beetle started sliding across the floor with his head still pressed to the ground finally broke Hornet’s resolve.

“ _Oh, for the Brood’s sake!_ What are you doing?!” She snapped, striking her needle against the stone floor irritably.

“Huh?” The dung beetle looked up, as if only just noticing Hornet was there. “Oh, it’s you! The child of The Beast, right?” Without waiting for a response, Ogrim glanced back to the floor and tapped a claw on the stone. “Have you noticed it? The earth…she’s been quaking recently!”

Hornet recalled the tremor she’d felt in the hall not more than a few minutes ago. “Yes, I noticed. I’d surmised that the constant rainfall is beginning to take it’s toll on the City’s structural integrity.”

“Bah! Not possible! His Majesty had the City of Tears built with the intention to last! This place is made out of the tougher stuff. No water damage, this.” He looked back at Hornet, and his eyes had a certain glint to them as he spoke his next words. “Something’s moving down under…Something big.” 

Hornet was silent as she let his words sink in, and felt a cold knot of dread sink into her stomach at the implication. “What do you mean?” She asked slowly. “What’s moving?”

At this, Ogrim merely shrugged as he stood upright once more. “Not a clue! But whatever it is, it’s certainly making a lot of racket!”

How very ominous.

“I…see,” was all Hornet could say as her mind raced, and without another word she saw herself out and began heading towards the Ashen Grave. Kingdom’s Edge.

 

***

Back at the Crossroads, Myla had gone soon after Hornet had left in a huff, stating that she best head back to her alcove – to which Quirrel realized that it was getting late again, much to the dismay of the children. 

Usually they would all head back home to Dirtmouth where they would be put to bed, and had done so the past few nights since Ghost’s phase began, though they were restless and agitated the entire time without their elder sibling there with them.

It was clear that they were anxious for their crystalized sibling, and Quirrel finally made the decision to set up a temporary campsite in the Hot Spring chamber itself.

Now the siblings could stay nearby without needing to return to the surface when it was bedtime. It was like a big family sleepover at the Hot Springs.

A small tent like structure was erected near the cave wall, where a large quilt was laid out beneath it with several other quilts folded in a stack nearby. Quirrel was currently sitting by the edge of the pool, letting his legs hang over the edge to soak in the healing waters as he gazed thoughtfully at the pale chrysalis structure still resting at the center of the pool, glowing softly with a pale light.

Behind him, The Hollow Knight was resting its back against the wall whilst Two, Three, and Tiny were sound asleep on its lap. It was hard to tell if the Hollow Knight was also asleep as well, but even if it wasn’t, it hadn’t said anything since Hornet’s rant.

Quirrel had worried that perhaps the larger Vessel had been hurt by their sister’s outburst, but when he had asked about it, the Hollow Knight only replied: 

**T͠here i͝s͢ ҉nothing͡ ̸to̕ s̸ay…͏say̢in̶ģ ̢mor̷ę brin͟gs pai͡n t̨o my̕ head̡…**

Quirrel wasn’t sure if the Hollow Knight meant that saying anything more would just make things worse, or if it was saying that using the telepathy for more than a few sentences was physically difficult.

In any case, Quirrel was more concerned about Ghost. It had been several night’s since the young Knight had been submerged in the pool, and during that time Quirrel had scrounged up whatever tablets and scrolls he could find even vaguely relating to pupation, metamorphosis, and life cycles. Even though he knew that any written records regarding the Vessels specifically would have either been destroyed or otherwise strictly safe-guarded, and not even deciphering Monomon’s recordings yielded any satisfying results. So, he figured that if Vessels were anything like bugs and beasts – which they clearly weren’t but he was really just grasping at straws at that point– the best he could do was to study up on how a metamorphosis went for other species of bugfolk who had a multiple stage life-cycle. 

So far, all he could say for certain was that he certainly hoped for Ghost’s sake that their transformation wasn’t as violent as the Moths’ metamorphosis – in which their larval form obliterated into a DNA slurry inside the cocoon and then _somehow_ reshaped into an adult. 

It wasn’t like Quirrel hadn’t asked Hollow about it.

**I ͟saw ͞ot̢h͠e͜rs ̕go̡ t͡h͏ro͜u͏g̨h t͏he ͜f̛i҉rst ͝phase…̷ ̴s̴om̵e͘ ̧ca͞m͟e̛ ҉out wron̷g. ͟Twisted͡. Di̸e͝d s͏oơn af͠t̶e͞r…̸ ̨Some҉ no̕t ̨s̶o͠on en͏o͠u͡gh… F҉e̷w͟ s̴urv͜ived. ͟Non̛e̡ s͞ur͠v͝i͘v̕ed the ͠secon̸d phase… ̢o̷nly҉ I.**

Quirrel stopped asking after that grim admission. He didn’t need any more nightmare fuel to burn his fire of worry and dread ablaze. Ghost would be fine, they were strong, they would get through this. They had to. 

***

At Kingdom’s Edge, Hornet scaled the sheer cliff faces with practiced ease, leaping from one outcropping to the next. 

Upon entering the ash choked area, she had started heading up to the tallest peak, intending to finish her routes and return to Dirtmouth so she could report her findings. 

She did not necessarily need to report to anyone, she doubted Quirrel was as concerned or serious about keeping the borders of the kingdom safe as she was, but it was all she had to offer when it came to small talk with the simple bug.

Hornet would never admit it aloud, but deep down she was eternally grateful that Quirrel was around to be there for her siblings when she could not. Hornet was a loner by nature, and had a hard time connecting with anyone in general. 

At some point during her climb, Hornet realized that she had yet to come across a single Primal Aspid or Belfly.

She landed atop a ledge and paused a moment to sweep a critical eye about her surroundings. 

There was no life in sight. No Hoppers, no Booflies, no Hivelings. It was dead quiet, with the only sound being the blowing of the wind. 

Unnerved, she dashed onwards and kept going until she reached the very top. Her heart sank when she did not hear the tell-tale snoring as she neared the cave where Bardoon should have been, and when she cautiously peered in, she saw why.

Bardoon was completely absent from the cave, and in his place was an upsurge of dirt, stone debris where the earth had been pushed upwards when the colossal caterpillar had evidently moved out. And above that was a nearly identical hole bored into the ceiling where Bardoon had exited.

But why? Where did everyone go? Were all the creatures hiding? If so, then what were they hiding from?

As she slowly stepped closer to the hole that Bardoon’s body had once occupied, she caught sight of something that she had not noticed before due to the dim lighting.

Upon the recently disturbed debris was a spattering of blood.

Hornet’s grip on her nail tensed, her eyes darting around the room as she slowly backed out of the cavern, not risking to investigate further. Something was terribly wrong.

As she backed out of the cave, she caught a glimpse of something from the corner of her eye, and on instinct spun around and lashed out with her needle.

The blade of her weapon clashed against the might of another, and Hornet suddenly found herself staring up at the face of a large maroon clad beetle.

She withdrew from the imposing figure of Nailmaster Oro, hopping back a nail’s distance and drawing herself up in a more casual, diplomatic posture. Though she remained on guard.

“Greetings, Nailmaster Oro,” Hornet said.

“Hmph. You travel to the end of the world at a troubling time, Red-cloak.” Oro said in response, hefting his large nail over one shoulder.

“Where is Bardoon?” Hornet demanded, ignoring the nickname for now.

“Gone. Most likely fled to Hallownest’s Crown, no doubt.” 

“But why—“

“Hush!” Oro suddenly hissed, glancing to the side as if listening for something.

For a tense second there was only silence, before Hornet though she heard a rumbling noise, almost like distant thunder. Or – Hornet thought grimly – like something moving through the earth.

“It is not safe here,” Oro said gruffly. “We best move elsewhere, swiftly.”

Hornet had no argument about that. Whatever was causing that sound, she did not want to stick around to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> totally nothing of significance.


	15. Metamorphosis: Part 3

The pain had faded. No longer was it the searing agony that ripped through their body, but now a dull aching form of pain; like they had just fought a challenging foe.

Now that the pain wasn’t occupying the foremost of their consciousness, they became distinctly aware that the tightness had returned. Only it wasn’t the same restricting feeling they had felt in their shell, this restricting force was not from within – but from without. 

It surrounded them. Confining them in a claustrophobic space that could barely hold them, as though the force was trying to suffocate them. Slowly crushing them until they expired, to which they would then be left to rot like a corpse in a tomb.

They suddenly felt a welling sense of fear and adrenaline rush through them. Their heart beat faster as they began to struggle; fighting against the thing entrapping them. They refused to die here, they had to get to the surface! They would not become just another corpse among the thousands of others piled around them, they had to climb, climb, climb and get to the top! Before the door was closed, before they—

A cold wash of air hit them as Ghost broke through, pushing with their newly formed horns, which were now slightly larger and more pronounced than they had been before. They stilled for a moment, shivering at how cold the outside air was in comparison to the warmth inside the crystalis. Though they had managed to crack the wall of their confines, they still had a ways to go before they were free.

But they were exhausted, and the temptation to sink back into unconsciousness weighed heavy on them, but a part of them knew that doing that now would be bad. 

With weariness, they braced themselves and pushed. The walls began to give way and with a burst of bright light, they dissipated entirely into sparkling motes of soul. 

Before they knew it, they were face first in the water. The warm water contrasted the cool air in a way that they might have found pleasant, but right now they just felt tired.

Ghost was only vaguely aware of their surroundings, and they struggled to recall where they were, and what had happened after they had fallen asleep in Quirrel’s arms. It was all a complete blur. 

They did not know how long they laid there, soaking in the calming water. But they had to get up eventually, and so – with sluggish movements– Ghost shifted and set their claws on the stone floor of the pool, before pushing themselves up into a kneeling position.

Water spilled from their sockets and dripped down their mask as they lifted their head out of the water, and they realized with a start that they were in a hot spring.

They also became distinctly aware that something about their body had changed. One of which being that their cloak now billowed about them in the water, where as before it had barely reached the floor. The second thing they noticed as they lifted their hands up was that they appeared longer than before, the claws more pronounced, and the beginnings of spines running along the back of each arm. 

They felt the face of their mask, which thankfully hadn’t changed much, but as they felt a little higher they realized their horns were thicker than before, almost heavier too.

Confused and a little out of sorts, they looked around once more, and realized with a rush of relief that they were not alone.

Across the room, they spotted their family. Hollow was asleep on their side, with the gaggle nestled close by among a few quilts, and Quirrel was dozing right next to them with his back against the cave wall.

Hornet was the only one absent. 

Silently, Ghost lifted themselves fully onto their feet, swaying slightly as they shot up higher than they were expecting; not yet used to their longer limbs. But once they had centered themselves, they slowly walked out of the hot spring, the water rippling gently behind them as they set foot on dry land.

It was as the Knight was approaching that Quirrel stirred from his light dozing and blinked open his eyes. 

He froze the moment his eyes laid on Ghost, and for a few seconds Quirrel just stared in stunned silence. The only sound being the water dripping from Ghost’s cloak.

Ghost lifted a hand up and waved tentatively at Quirrel, and the silence was finally broken by the other bug’s barely contained sob of relief as Quirrel suddenly leapt up and embraced the Knight in a hug so fierce that even Ghost was surprised by it.

“Oh, thank the Archives! Don’t ever do that to me again, Ghost!” Quirrel exclaimed, holding them out at arms length to get a better look at them. “My, you’ve certainly grown! Look at you, you’re nearly as tall as I am!”

That wasn’t exactly true, though Ghost was probably a head or two taller than they had been, they suspected that they’d just barely reach Hornet’s height, but Quirrel’s enthusiasm was contagious and Ghost found themselves puffing up with pride at their new stature.

It was at this moment that Tiny had began to stir, evidently having been woken up by the commotion, and now sat up to survey their surroundings.

When Tiny spotted Ghost, the sleepiness in their eyes instantly evaporated as they leapt up and tackled Ghost in a hug. Quirrel suspected that they would have squealed with joy if the they had been able to.

It wasn’t long before Two, Three, and Hollow awoke as well. Two and Three quickly rushed over to embrace their sibling alongside Tiny, whilst Hollow lingered a moment with their head slightly tilted in their direction.

**A͠re ͘the̵y…**

Quirrel perked with curiosity at the hesitation he sensed in the Hollow Knight’s mental message to him, glancing up at the large Vessel.

**A͟ŗe͘ ̨th̵ey͢ w̢hol̸e…?**

At first Quirrel was confused, but then he realized that the Hollow Knight was asking if Ghost had emerged from their first metamorphosis successfully.

Quirrel opened his mouth to respond, but Ghost seemed to have sensed their eldest sibling’s anxiety before he did and had already moved to Hollow’s side and grasped their hand in their own.

The Hollow Knight tensed minutely at the touch; the last time they had felt their sibling’s body was when it was falling apart in their claws, and they had secretly feared that Ghost would end up coming out of the molting phase of their metamorphosis in a similarly fatal state. The Hollow Knight’s own metamorphosis had proceeded in a controlled environment, being submerged in a suspension chamber filled with a mixture of soul and void before their shell had begun to crack to aid in the process and further guarantee its success rate.  
Ghost’s metamorphosis was not controlled at all. In fact from what the Hollow Knight had gleaned from Quirrel and Hornet, it occurred under one of the worst possible conditions. Ghost had lost a lot of Void matter during their trip from Dirtmouth to the Crossroads, and their body had already begun to liquify without the extra assistance of soul and water to aid in forming a chrystalis. 

By all accounts, Ghost should have been dead.

But as they felt the young Knight’s successfully reformed mask, which was still small in comparison to theirs, the Hollow Knight felt themselves once again struck by the little Knight’s tenacity to once again cheat death and come out even stronger than before.

Quirrel suddenly made a noise of realization, and shifted to grab something that was concealed beneath a cloth. Quickly unwrapping it revealed the Pure nail.

“Here, friend. You dropped this back at Dirtmouth,” Quirrel said with a smile, offering the immaculate weapon out to Ghost.

Ghost gave Quirrel a grateful look as they grasped the handle, noticing that the blade shown with a recently polished sheen –which they guessed had been Quirrel’s doing – and re-shelthed the nail over their back. The familiar weight of their weapon bringing them a comfort they hadn’t realized they’d been missing.

They looked back at their siblings, glad that they were fine and hadn’t gotten into too much trouble whilst Ghost had been gone. Now they only needed to find Hornet.

A tremor went through the ground. 

Caught completely unawares, everyone stumbled at the sudden vibrations running through the stone cavern. Two and Three teetered on unbalanced legs, Tiny simply falling over, but Ghost caught them before they could hit the ground.

“W-What i-is going on?!” Quirrel exclaimed as he tried to keep himself from toppling over.

A dull rumble filled the cave, the surface of the pool rippling violently as dust and loose pebbles began to fall from the ceiling. 

Hollow was still siting and had their face angled at the ground, sensing something the others didn’t as the let out a shrieking hiss of alarm before throwing themselves over Quirrel and their siblings.

A split second later the ground burst upwards, sending a spray of water, dirt and rock debris as the Hot spring was partially decimated. The Hollow Knight’s large frame protected Quirrel and the others from getting crushed by the barrage of stone.

A loud roar filled the cavern, and Quirrel let out a cry of horror at the sight of the creature that had emerged from the ground.

It was a large, fat, bloated thing as big as a Stalking Devout, with hair covering its body and two beady eyes glinting hungrily at them as huge claws crushed through rubble like it was nothing. Upon its snout was an an amalgamation of short, red tentacles that waved in the air, and as the creature opened its mouth, rows upon rows of wickedly sharp teeth glinted savagely in the dim light.

The monster lunged its huge bulk forward, but the Hollow Knight whipped around with a speed and strength that bellied their scarred state as they grappled with the beast with their one remaining arm; grabbing onto one of the creature's huge claws and using their opposite shoulder to shove against the its lunge, diverting its momentum so that the beast ended up being flipped onto its back and hitting the floor with a loud bang and an enraged snarl. The beast lashed out blindly with its unrestrained claw, trying to throw the Hollow Knight off, its fangs gnashing just inches from their face. 

**Ru͘ņ.̧**

Quirrel did not need to be told twice, quickly scooping up all three Vessels he turned to flee, but paused when he realized that Ghost had yet to follow.

“Ghost!” Quirrel called to the young Knight, who looked torn between following and staying to fight.

 **Ru͏n, sibl҉ing!͏ ̕Pro̕te̷ct o̸ur kin҉!**

The Hollow Knight’s mental projection crackled in the minds of all of them. Ghost seemed taken aback by the ferocity of their eldest sibling’s words, but not exactly surprised. They had suspected that their elder sibling could speak, after all, Ghost had only returned to Hallownest when they heard their sibling’s call for help. But now was not the time to dawdle.

Making a snap decision, Ghost nodded and rushed to follow Quirrel out of the still rumbling cavern, leaving the Hollow Knight to fight the beast alone.

As they ran towards the stag station, another one of those monsters burst its head out of the ground in front of them, using its claws to drag its body halfway out of the hole and blocking the path with its bulk.

Quirrel skidded to a halt as the creature snapped its jaws just barely an inch away from him, but Ghost dashed forward and slashed at the great beast with their nail, slicing several of those short fleshy tentacles on its snout clean off.

The creature let out a piercing scream of agony, swiftly backing away and retreating into its hole for the time being. 

With the path momentarily cleared, the group quickly skirted around the hole before continuing onwards towards the stag station. 

The Old Stag, bless his soul, was dutifully waiting for them as they rushed in. “Quite a commotion.” The Old Stag mused aloud, “haven’t felt a quake like this in centuries…”

“Oh, it’s not an earthquake, my friend! Trust me!” Quirrel quickly leapt onto the back of the stag with all three siblings still clinging on to him for dear life. “Though right now, I sorely wish it was!”

Ghost followed, taking the front seat and signaling the stag to go with a wave of their nail. The Old Stag wasted no time, galloping down the tunnel at full speed. The tunnel lights flashed by as they raced down the tunnel towards Dirtmouth, for there was no other place neither Ghost nor Quirrel could think about other than just getting anywhere away from the Crossroads.

Unfortunately, they realized too late that riding the stag had been a mistake.

The ground a few dozen yards in front of the stag exploded upwards to reveal a maw of snapping teeth, causing The Old Stag to give a startled grunt before he swerved and changed course, going down another tunnel.

The creatures digging through the earth were practically blind and deaf, but their wormlike nose appendages were sensitive to touch and smell, and they felt the vibrations caused by the stag’s thundering hoof-steps clearly through the earth.

Another one of the ground monsters emerged from the ground–– this time just a few feet in front of the stag, snapping its teeth mere inches away from the stag’s legs. Another dug its way out from the wall. The Old Stag reared, nearly causing everyone onboard to fall off as he twisted to avoid the gnashing jaws, taking another turn down another route in an effort to avoid the beast.

At this point Ghost had no idea where they were headed, and the Old Stag didn’t seem to know either as he huffed and puffed with exertion, spittle forming at the corners of his mouth. The look in the stag’s eyes were wild with panic, border lining the maddened look of the infected. All Quirrel and the others could do was hang on for the ride as the stag took twists and turns down seemingly random tunnels, before Ghost noticed the ground had changed from compacted dirt to stone brickwork. 

The Old Stag eventually came down from his adrenaline rush and slowed to a brisk trot, before coming to a stop at the City Storeroom’s stag station, huffing for breath as his old legs trembled slightly.

Ghost was the first to dismount from the stag, landing on the platform with their nail drawn and ready to strike at anything that was a threat. But the storerooms were quiet.

After another cursory glance about the room just to be sure, Ghost motioned to Quirrel ––who interpreted the gesture as a sign that it was safe for now.

As soon as Quirrel and the gaggle were on the platform, the Old Stag collapsed onto its front with a fatigued groan, exhaustion sweeping over him followed by the deep ache in his legs that once again reminded the Old Stag just how old he was. 

Worried, Ghost quickly hopped off the platform and knelt beside the Old Stag, one hand resting on the stag’s armored forehead in concern.

“Ahhh….now, now, little traveler. Do not fret. I may not be as young and spritely as I used to be, but I’ll live. Though, I’m afraid I won’t be of much use for a time.”

Ghost could only nod in understanding, giving the Old Stag a gentle pat on the brow before returning to Quirrel and their siblings on top of the platform.

Quirrel had somehow managed to convince Two and Three to let go of him long enough so that he could set them down on the nearby bench, but Tiny had refused to be put down; quivering like a leaf as large dark tears spilled down their face, their body hiccuping with silent terrified sobs. Quirrel was doing his best to comfort the Tiniest, rocking them and cooing reassurances.

Ghost walked up beside him, and motioned for Quirrel to pass the crying child to them, to which he readily obliged. 

Tiny instantly latched onto their elder sibling. Where before, Ghost would've had trouble holding them properly – unless offering a piggyback ride. Now Ghost could cradle their tiny sibling comfortably, and Ghost realized just how small Tiny was in comparison to them now.

They let Tiny quietly cry into their cloak, unconsciously shifting their weight from foot to foot in an attempt to mimic the rocking motion Quirrel had done many times before.

They calmly contemplated over the events that had panned out. They worried about the fate of the Hollow Knight, regretting having been forced to leave their eldest sibling behind to fend for themselves, even though they knew it had been the right thing to do. 

Quirrel was doing some similar contemplating, only he was doing it much _less_ calmly than Ghost was. “What were those creatures? They were like nothing I’ve ever encountered!” Quirrel ranted aloud, pacing back and forth in front of the bench. Two and Three watching on with a mixture of worry and fear. “This sudden emergence is very troublesome, no good can come of this. We-We have to do something! But how? There could be hundreds of them! We—“  
Quirrel stopped when he caught Ghost shooting a look at him, putting a protective hand over Tiny’s head meaningfully.

Quirrel sighed, realizing that his panicked ramblings were only frightening the children even more. “You’re right, friend. I apologize. We should be thinking rationally.” He worried his chin in thought as he spoke. “After all, we should be safe here for now. From the lack of tremors, I’m willing to bet that these creatures cannot dig through solid stone.This is…this is good!”

Ghost nodded in agreement, jabbing at the stone floor with their nail for emphasis.

“You’re right! We can use this to our advantage!” Quirrel said with a spark of his usual optimism returning. “We can fortify the towers here in the City, and from there we can plan our next move…” He trailed off as he became lost in his thoughts, his mind already piecing together a plan of action. “We need to find Hornet, or find some way to contact her.” 

Ghost nodded again, looking to the side as they wondered just how exactly were they going to find their wayward sister. They had no idea where Hornet was or where she might be, as Hornet was notorious for traveling all over Hallownest whenever she pleased and tracking her down would be next to impossible. The only reason they had managed to follow Hornet way back when they first arrived at Halllownest was because Hornet had _let_ them follow her. 

If anything, Hornet was more likely to find them more quickly if they all stayed put. Though Ghost disliked the idea of siting idle during a crisis, it wasn’t like anyone was fit to travel at the moment.

While Quirrel and Ghost were used to taking long and arduous journeys across hostile territory, the three children were not, and the Old Stag would not be ready to brave the stagways anytime soon with the threat of those monsters crawling about.

Once again, Ghost was in a position where, if they had been alone, they would have already been heading off to hunt down every last one of those digging creatures without hesitation. But now they had family to take care of, siblings to keep safe and dear friends to look after; they couldn’t just abandon them to go off hunting and leave their loved ones alone to fend for themselves.

 _But isn’t that exactly what you did?_ A small voice in the back of their mind whispered darkly, making Ghost tense.

_You abandoned your older sibling. You left them to die._

Ghost shook their head, trying to dispel the nasty thoughts. They didn’t abandon the Hollow Knight; the Hollow Knight was strong, they could take care of themselves in a fight. Ghost had to believe that their elder siblings – both Hornet and Hollow – would be alright. They had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gosh dang starnosed moles diggin' holes in the garden agin.


	16. Invasion

At the Kingdom’s Edge, Hornet and Nailmaster Oro had to stick to the routes away from ground level in order to avoid the unknown invaders moving just beneath the earth. Hornet had occasionally caught sight of the creatures whenever one happened to emerge from the earth, but she was too high up to make out any details other than the fact that the creatures were of considerable size and armed with lethal looking claws.

“What are those things?” She whispered in disbelief as she watched one of the monsters burst from the ground and devour a hopper before retreating back underground a second later. 

“Diggers.” Nailmaster Oro replied, pushing onwards towards the rampart that led to the city. “‘Least that’s what I call them. The dirt-eating blighters destroyed my refuge. Left the place in shambles when they didn’t find anything to devour…”

Hornet said nothing in response, turning away from the ledge she’d been peering down and following after Oro. She did not like this at all, these creatures would no doubt ravage the land if not swiftly dealt with soon. She dreaded to think what the impact of these invaders would have on Hallownest’s already fragile state.

“Do you have any ideas as to where they’ve come from?” She inquired after a moment.

“Beyond the wastes, I reckon. Probably attracted to the prospect of new hunting grounds.” Oro theorized aloud. “There’s no laws against creatures migrating in search of food.”

Perhaps, but Hornet did not care. These invaders were a threat to Hallownest and had to be dealt with as soon as feasibly possible. The only question was how? 

As they continued onwards, they eventually found their path gradually sloping downwards and closer to the canyon’s ground level; the walls becoming too steep to climb and Hornet was not so cowardly as to leave the Nailmaster behind by simply using her string-shot to scale her way up.

As they came to the edge of the stone path, Hornet peered out at the ground below, searching for any signs of the earth swimming creatures below the surface. 

The ground was completely still and undisturbed, save for the agitated buzzing of Hivelings hovering about an opening in their Hive’s walls.

After a few more seconds of waiting, Hornet became impatient and stepped out onto the ground, walking a few paces forward before pausing once more. She looked around, but still no sign of the creatures.

She did not trust these signs at all, and she held her needle at her side, ready and poised to strike at anything. Oro slowly moved across the ground as well, his lumbering gait making Hornet cringe internally at the large beetle’s heavy footfalls. 

Suddenly, Hornet sensed something to her left, and with a forceful thrust of her nail, she drove her blade straight into the ground and immediately felt the vibration as her needle struck something below the surface.

She barely had time to wrench her blade out of the ground and dash away as the earth erupted, revealing a screaming beast that now bore a bloody gash right above one of its beady black eyes.

In that instant, everything went to hell.

More of the digging beasts burst from the ground, surrounding Oro and Hornet as the two were forced to stand back to back with on another; the creatures snarling and slashing at the two with wide paws studded six claws, each claw at least a meter in length. 

One of the beasts swiped at Hornet, to which she countered by parrying the strike with her nail. The resounding clash nearly made her buckle under the force of the massive paw; it was like being struck with six blades at once. It became clear that Hornet could not overpower these creatures, but perhaps she could out-speed them.

Nailmaster Oro was having more luck with his massive nail. Blocking the beasts from advancing and keeping them on the defense as he struck back with powered blows. 

Hornet dodged as another beast lunged forward, intending to sink its lethally sharp rows of teeth into her shell. It payed dearly for its reckless move as Hornet thrust her needle forward in a quick jab, stabbing clean through the creature’s shell-less flesh. The inflicted wound hadn’t been deep, but it still made the creature squeal in pain and back off momentarily whilst another took its place.

Hornet dodged and weaved around creatures’ attacks, retaliating with harsh stings of her needle at every opportunity, cutting bloody gouges into the beasts’ hides until the they bled-out as more and more came out of the ground.

Nailmaster Oro dealt devastating slashes that shattered one of the beast’s claws to bloodied splinters and took off the lower jaw of another; felling less than a dozen. But more kept coming.

Hornet could feel herself tiring. For every creature she’d managed to strike down, two more would take its place. One had managed to swipe a claw close enough that it tore through the hem of her cloak, cutting a shallow gash in her shell that made her hiss in pain.

Oro had already taken a few blows to his red armor, one beast clamping it’s jaws onto one of his arms with crushing force, severely denting the metal cuff which saved Oro’s arm from being snapped off entirely. Oro bellowed a war-cry as he shoved the beast off, stabbing his nail down into the creature’s head, killing it instantly.

They could not go on like this, Hornet knew. If they continued for much longer, they’d eventually be overrun by the creatures.

The thought of dying at the claws and teeth of savage animals sent torrent of burning fury through Hornet as she hacked off the pink fleshy tentacles from one of the beasts’ snouts, making it reel with agony and pain. She would not die here! Not like this! She hadn’t come all this way- survived for so long by herself- just to be eaten by foreign invaders.

Hornet fought with renewed vigor, spinning and twirling her blade in a grand display of blood and death to any who drew within range of her weapon. 

If her mother had been there, she would of been proud.

Alas, even with her renewed ferocity fueled by defiance, the throng of earth moving beasts were relentless in their dogged pursuit to tear her and Oro limb from limb. They just kept coming, one after another, the ground was already stained with blood. It was getting to the point where more creatures were arriving faster than either Hornet or Oro could kill them. They were going to lose.

One of the diggers’ claws glanced off Hornet’s blade hard enough to send her tumbling to the ground. Nailmaster Oro moved to come to her aid, but he was staggered as a particularly vicious digger raked its claws across his chest. The shriek of metal chest plates being rended apart split the air, filling Hornet with cold dread as she struggled back to her feet.

She suddenly heard something above the din of snarling beasts, a sound that was a thrumming hum yet simultaneously felt like the rumbling of distant thunder; a buzzing noise that had begun to intensify until it resonated within her horns.

Hornet abruptly ducked as a wing of Hive Soldiers burst from the hole in the Hive’s wall, their stingers already extended as they dive bombed the invaders; crashing into the furred brutes with bone-shattering force.

The beasts turned their writhing snouts upwards, smelling the sickly sweet scent of honey just before they were bombarded by a swarm of Hivelings, causing the beast to yowl and shriek in pain as the numerous little bees stung at their eyes and their sensitive tendrilled snouts; forcing the creatures to turn-tail and flee down their holes.

The few beasts that had managed to knock down the Nailmaster were assaulted by the Hive Soldiers, their stingers skewering the beasts and flinging them off the downed beetle.

Hornet stumbled over to where Nailmaster Oro was struggling to rise. The beetle’s plated armor had saved his shell from being mortally wounded, but the claws had still left gouges in his chest that wept with blood. Painful, but not fatal.

“Damn savages,” Oro coughed as he used his nail to prop himself up. “I didn’t think the furred things were smart enough to stage an ambush.”

Hornet gave him a strange look. “You think they planned this attack?” She had been under the assumption that she and Oro just happened to stumble upon an area that ended up being already rife with the creatures.

“Of course. They’d been waiting for us.” Oro replied, however did not elaborate as to how he could be certain of this assessment. Instead he looked towards the hovering Hivelings and Hive Soldiers. “Good thing these honey-sucklers arrived when they did. Otherwise I doubt we would have made it out of this alive.”

“We still might not,” Hornet muttered grimly as she stared up at the swarm of buzzing bees, noting how the Hivelings were now flying in a jittering dance in the air; communicating with their brethren in a language unique to the Hive’s inhabitants only.

The Hive had no reason to come to her and Oro’s aid. The Queen of the Hive having long since isolated herself and her kind from the rest of Hallownest for centuries, never interacting with outsiders other than to keep them at bay, Hornet doubted they came to their rescue out of the kindness in their hearts.

Her suspicions were only further reinforced when a trio of Hive Soldiers landed on the ground in front of them. The soldiers buzzed their wings as they stalked forward, causing Hornet to instinctively take a step back and than another as the Hive Soldiers’ advanced.

Hornet was weary, and the injuries she’d received during the fight smarted, but she still fell into a battle stance anyways; unwilling to be defeated whilst laying down. 

But before she could so much as bring her nail to bear, several Hivelings jostled her, flying into her back and pushing her along with their small bodies towards the hole in the Hive wall. The Hive Soldiers were giving Oro similar prompting, and it was then that Hornet realized that the two of them were being corralled. 

She wondered what the Hive could possibly want with the two of them.

***

It was sometime later when Hornet and Nailmaster Oro were brought before the Queen of the Hive, their wounds having been treated with swaths of raw honey that soothed the pain emanating from their injuries. Hornet was secretly impressed by the healing properties of the stuff, and had a new-found respect for the sweet nectar that the inhabitants of the Hive hoarded.

Hive Queen Vespa was as huge and imposing as ever. Her body surrounded by dozens of Hivelings tending to her every need as she stood there before the two bugs, her form having long since become entombed by her own making. 

Hornet had the good sense to bow low in the Hive Queen’s presence, and Oro did so as well, though not as reverently; doing what he considered the bear minimum of what was expected when in the presence of royalty.

“Rise,” Hive Queen Vespa spoke, “your arrival here has been ordained. I welcome you to the Hive, though I wish it were under happier circumstances.”

“Indeed, your Majesty,” Hornet responded diplomatically, “am I right to assume then that you are also aware of the recent invasion from these creatures?”

“Muldvarps.” Vespa stated cryptically.

“Pardon?” 

“Muldvarps of the Condylurini. Ravenous dirt-tossers from the far eastern wastelands. The fact that they have migrated here can only be a sign that their native lands have gone fallow.” 

Hornet remained silent for a moment as she took this information in. However, though Oro had so far had the sense to remain silent, it was now that he decided to speak up.

“Hmph. And how is it that you know this?” 

Hornet shot the beetle a warning glare, but the Queen seemed unbothered by the Nailmaster’s bluntness.

“My Hivelings travel far and wide beyond Hallownest in search of nectar, and upon their return they bring news of the surrounding lands.” She answered simply. 

Oro seemed to be satisfied with that answer, but Hornet was only further puzzled. After all, she was not well-versed in how the Hive’s honey was made, but she had never gone beyond Hallownest’s borders, so she had no choice but to believe that what Queen Vespa said was true.

“What is to be done about this? Surely there has to be a way to drive these creatures out of Hallownest.” Hornet implored the Queen, but she was met with disappointment.

“There is nothing to be done,” Queen Vespa stated, “nature shall run its course. This kingdom will crumble, it’s fate has not changed, and to rail against it will only bring misery.” She spoke with no malice in her voice, but with a tone of finality that portrayed her words as simple fact.

Hornet could not accept this, her grip on her nail tightening as she shook her head. She did not survive for this long to protect her home only for it to be destroyed; not by the Infection; not by the Radiance; and certainly not by dirt-shoveling Muldvarps!

“No!” Hornet shouted, raising her nail in defiance. “Hallownest will not fall! Not again – not on my watch!” She glared up into the eyes of the massive Queen bee. “You may claim that you and your Hive are separate from the kingdom’s affairs, yet you exist within Hallownest despite that. Hallownest is just as much your home as it is ours!”

The Queen of the Hive merely stared down at Hornet with a sad, pitying gaze. “Child, you do not know what you speak. You are still young, and have much to learn as to what it means to be a Queen.” 

Hornet was seething inside, but she kept her voice calm. “If I am wrong, than why did you interfere? Why save us?”

At this, Queen Vespa did not respond. 

Hornet couldn’t help but huff disdainfully at the Queen’s silence. Of course, all queens were the same, hypocritical beings that did nothing but sit upon their thrones and watch as the world around them burns.

Without another word, Hornet turned to leave. She didn’t have time to squabble, she had a kingdom to protect. Nailmaster Oro followed silently behind.

“I knew your mother,” came the barely heard whisper, causing Hornet to pause a moment. “She and I were good friends…”

***

Once outside, Hornet and Oro made there way to the City of Tears, the two remaining silent as soon as they had left the Hive behind them.

“Are you crying?” Oro had asked when they had exited the Hive.

“NO!” Hornet snapped, rubbing her face vigorously with her tattered cloak as she pointedly looked away from the Nailmaster. “Why would I be crying? Crying is for grubs and weaklings frightened of their own shadow!” 

Oro hadn’t replied immediately, and Hornet was too stubborn to look at his face to tell what he was thinking.

“There are no laws forbidding the act of shedding tears for loved ones,” was what he finally said before they resumed the rest of their journey in silence.

It didn’t take long before they were within the city limits, and Hornet was glad to find no sign of the Muldvarps having breached the City. Perhaps the stone proved too much for the earth digging creatures to penetrate.

It was as the two of them were passing by the memorial statue of the Hollow Knight when Hornet thought she heard something.

“Hornet!” 

Hornet looked up, stopping in her tracks as she looked around the empty streets. She could have sworn she’d heard somebody calling her name, but the constant din of the rain falling made it hard to pinpoint exactly where the voice had originated from.

“Hmph. What is it?” Oro asked impatiently, having stopped as well.

“I…” Hornet trailed off, her eyes scanning her surroundings before shaking her head. “Never-mind. Let’s keep moving—“ It was at that moment that Hornet looked up at one of the buildings across from them and caught sight of movement in the bay window on the second story building. A familiar bug frantically waving at her through the glass.

“Quirrel?—“ Was all Hornet could say out of surprise before she caught sight of something charging down the corridor ahead, running straight for her.

She barely had enough time to draw her nail in a parry, her blade clashing into that of another’s, and she was able to get a good look at the assailant.

Her eyes widened in shock and disbelief, standing before her was a Vessel that was nearly as tall as she was, the horns atop its head were almost awkwardly large yet the curve of them was unmistakable, and its eyes bore a familiar determination to them that was hard to miss. 

“Little ghost…?” She spoke, her voice tentative and unsure. In her moment of hesitation, her nail was easily deflected away – though not unkindly – and before she could react, they had rushed forward and embraced her in a shell-crushing hug.

“I’m g-going to assume –that’s a yes.” Hornet grunted as she struggled to breath, patting Ghost’s back in an awkward reciprocation of the gesture. 

Nailmaster Oro watched the reunion in somewhat confused and mildly annoyed manner. The rain dripping around them was quite irritating, but he also noticed that Nail art the newcomer used was familiar to him. The Dash Slash. He recalled having taught his Nail art to a little warrior some time ago, but surely this couldn’t be the same bug. Perhaps they had a growth spurt?

It was then that Oro spotted three more of the peculiar looking bugs scampering out into the rain towards them, these ones much smaller. 

Nailmaster Oro was taken aback when the three immediately homed in on him and began jumping excitedly at his feet for reasons he could not fathom. He peered down at the little ones with a mildly confused expression.

After a moment it seemed the three children realized something wasn’t right, and they stopped bouncing to look up at Oro questioningly. The smallest one then pointed emphatically to themselves before holding their arms out and spinning in a circle fast enough to make themselves dizzy.

Oro was struck by a moment of insight, and he drew back and shook his head. “Ah, I see. You three have mistaken me for someone else. My loathsome fool of a brother perhaps.” At the children’s blank expressions – well, at their _blanker_ expressions – Oro explained. “I am not Mato. I am Nailmaster Oro, his twin brother.”

The gaggle seemed to get the point, as their confusion quickly turned into comprehension as they looked to one another. They knew what siblings were, but Oro looked so similar to Mato, (albeit a bit more beaten-up), that they still had trouble accepting that this Nailmaster had never met them before and wasn’t going to give them the warm reception they had been expecting.

So instead, they turned their attention to someone who would; the three of them scampering over to Hornet, who had just managed to pry herself out of Ghost’s crushing embrace, only to be entrapped again by the gaggle as they rushed over to give her hugs as well.

“Alright, alright, settle down.” Hornet sighed, scooping up Tiny in her good arm. “At least let us get inside first!” She made to move, but Two and Three were clinging onto her legs, one leg each, and so she was forced to haul them with her like oversized boots.

Ghost lingered behind a moment, turning to Nailmaster Oro and bowing respectfully.

“Hmph. I must say, my pupil, I wasn’t expecting to cross paths with you again.” He said this with an almost dismissive air to him, though he was secretly a bit amused as well. “I see that you’ve grown in stature since our last meeting.” 

The Knight nodded as the two of them turned to follow Hornet and the others into the shelter of the the building.

***

“This is outrageous! This is a shop, not a refugee encampment!” The Relic Seeker Lemm was currently shouting with displeasure at the sudden influx of occupants in his home. He had been minding his own business dusting his various antiques when not more than an hour ago a bunch of soggy vagabonds came waltzing in from off the streets. Now there was even more of them squatting in his shop.

“We won’t be here long, friend.” Quirrel had tried to reason with the crotchety old bug. “We just need some place to stay for a bit to get our bearings. I promise the children will be no trouble.”

“Pah! Indeed! Oi, no touching the antiques!” Lemm just barely caught the fragile relic before it could fall to the floor, glaring at the little squib who’d been poking at it.

Lemm would have thrown them all out if the pale wanderer hadn’t been there and offered him three arcane eggs in exchange for allowing their group to stay in his dwelling.

Lemm was beginning to regret accepting that offer. Already he’d had to sacrifice several relics to the children in order to keep them occupied and away from the more fragile antiques.

Tiny was currently sitting on a cushion in the corner, playing with a King’s Idol in one hand and a Hallownest Seal in the other, miming movements and actions like the objects were dolls. Two and Three were nearby, sitting on the floor whilst drawing on the back of a wanderer’s journal with a pebble of chalk that they shared between each other.

Quirrel and Hornet were poring over a map that Ghost had generously provided, and Nailmaster Oro had insisted on going on ahead, most likely because he disliked being around so many bugs and would rather fight another dozen Muldvarps than stay any longer. 

“Fascinating,” Quirrel had exclaimed when Hornet had filled them in on what she’d learn about the invaders, after which Quirrel had explained why he was in the city with the children and a slightly taller Ghost. “I wonder what has happened to the Muldvarps’ homeland to cause them to embark on such a large migration.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Hornet said sternly. “They are an infestation and they need to be exterminated as soon as possible before they eat all of Hallownest’s inhabitants.”

Quirrel hummed in agreement, staring down at the map as he tried to think of how exactly to remove the Muldvarps with the least amount of risk. “We cannot simply hunt them all down.”

“And why not?” Hornet retorted, “I say we cut down as many of them as we can until they are wiped off the face of Hallownest. I will not let the kingdom be overrun by vermin!”

Quirrel glanced at Hornet worriedly, not liking how vehement she’d become since he’d last seen her. He had noticed the fresh wounds she bore and the massive tear in her cloak, as well as the three long diagonal rents in Oro’s chest plate, and he was worried that Hornet was becoming a bit too eager to exact her form of judgment on the Muldvarps.

What was worse was the fact that Ghost also seemed just as eager to start cutting down the invaders. Quirrel had a hunch that the two of them wanted vengeance for their eldest sibling, who had been left behind back at the Crossroads.

“We can’t just charge headfirst into battle,” Quirrel reasoned, “who knows how many of them are out there. There could be hundreds, maybe thousands! You two have no hope to eradicate every single one of them.”

Ghost was hurt by this, their blade clicking on the stone floor as they slumped. Did Quirrel think them incapable of the task?

“Ghost, I know that if you were to put your mind to it, I have no doubts that you would be able to hunt down every single one of them. But that could take years.” Quirrel said as if he had read Ghost’s mind, to which Ghost glanced up at him with a questioning gaze but Quirrel merely gave them a knowing smile.

“Well then do you have any better ideas, simple bug?” Hornet quipped, crossing her arms doubtfully.

Quirrel rubbed the back of his head, squinting down at a spot on the map. “I might have a plan, yes.” He glanced up at Hornet. “But first, we need to get back to Dirtmouth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: honey has antibacterial properties!


	17. Meanwhile...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was meant to be longer but due to some setbacks y'all will have to wait a bit for the second half of it.

—-

“Have you truly listened to everything I’ve said? Let’s start again and repeat the ‘Fifty-Seven Precepts of Zote’.”

Bretta nodded, though her eyes drooped as she tried to stifle a yawn. Her Grey Prince was thorough and she admired how he was willing to take the time to impart his glorious wisdom upon her with such valor, but the Grey Prince must have repeated his precepts fifty-seven times already! She couldn’t possibly keep up.

The Mighty Zote took no notice of the fair maiden’s plight, instead raising his immaculate weapon, ‘Life Ender’, into the air as he began to once again recite the fifty-seven precepts.

“Precept One—Wah-!?” The only warning her Grey Prince had was the rumbling tremor through the earth, before the ground beneath the Mighty Zote opened up and a large maw full of teeth snapped around the self-proclaimed knight like a shark.

Bretta screamed.

——-

 

In the town of Dirtmouth, in a cottage near the center of town, a very disgruntled Grimmchild was curled up on top of a shelf; a length of tightly woven, red yarn having been bound around its neck and secured to the handle of a nearby cabinet.

“ _Mrrrr…._ ” Gritten murmured glumly. It hadn’t been their fault. Hornet had surprised them whilst they were sleeping and the Grimchild had reacted like anyone else would have: by spitting a fireball in the intruder’s face.

However, Hornet had not been so understanding, and had promptly put Gritten in a time-out. Which was totally unfair in the Grimmchild’s opinion.

So, for the past few hours, Gritten had been left all by themselves; alone and growing very bored. They had tried taking a nap and simply sleeping until the rest of their adopted family returned to come save them from their solitary confinement, but their sleep kept getting disturbed by odd tremors shaking the house every so often.

Gritten wished they could simply warp to wherever Ghost was, but the Grimmchild had already absorbed the charm which kept them tethered to the other, taking away Ghost’s responsibility to care for Gritten and allowing the Grimmchild some independence from their caretaker.

“ _Mrrerrrw…_ ” Gritten rolled onto their back, they were so _bored!_ What they wouldn’t do right now for something interesting to happen.

The house shook. Pots and pans clanged against each other and cupboard doors shuttered, the window panes rattled noisily and Gritten curiously peered out to see what was going on.

Just outside, the ground erupted in an upheaval of dirt and stone as a large, furred creature emerged; its massive digging claws scuffed at the dirt at either side of its massive body, and its snout of worms writhed as it sniffed the air.

Gritten stared, this wasn’t exactly what they had in mind, but they supposed it would do. 

With a cough of scarlet flame, the time-out leash was incinerated and Gritten swooped towards the door, turning the handle with their tail and pulling the door open before flying out into the open air. Hornet would be certainly cross when she found out they skipped out of their punishment, but right now the Grimmchild didn’t really care.

Once outside, Gritten saw that there had already been multiple holes that had been created by the strange digging creatures, and that most of them were currently clambering at the sides of one of the larger buildings in Dirtmouth. Gritten spotted several familiar bugs hunkered atop the roof.

Circling overhead, Gritten confirmed that Elderbug, Bretta, Sly, Cornifer and Iselda were currently trapped on the roof of Dirtmouth’s old town hall. Bretta was rocking anxiously where she sat, babbling unconsolably as she wept, whilst Iselda did her best to comfort the grieving beetle. Cornifer and Elderbug were watching on in sympathy, preferring to stay away from the edges of the roof and stick to the center. However, Sly was glaring down at the creatures trying to get to them. 

“Oh boo-hoo-hoo! My valiant Grey Prince!” Bretta wailed, “sacrificed himself for his fair maiden! I shall never love ever again! Ohhh boo-hoo-hoo!” 

“Nonsense, hun. Come now, stop this crying, you’ll make yourself ill.” Iselda said in soft exasperation, patting Bretta on the shoulder.

“Indeed,” Elderbug tried his luck at consoling Bretta and held out a handkerchief for her to take. “I’m sure your erm… ‘Grey Prince’ is out there right now fighting—”

“You weren’t there!” Bretta wailed, but accepted the offered handkerchief and dabbed fretfully at her tear streaked face. “I saw him get eaten! Devoured by one of those horrible monsters!”

“Oh.” Elderbug shut up after that. The old bug had not known the strange self-proclaimed warrior well, and had not particularly cared for his constant boasting. But seeing the young lass so distraught over the loss was slowly driving everyone to despair. Their homes had been destroyed. The Town now overrun by strange beasts and now everyone was stuck on a roof with no hope for salvation. 

The only bug that seemed to have their head on straight was the fly merchant.

Sly was otherwise indifferent, completely ignoring Bretta’s sobbing in favor of plotting their next course of action.

It had been the great Nailsage’s foresight and quick thinking that had saved the few bugfolk of Dirtmouth from being wiped out, having cut a path through the earth churning monsters with his own great nail; allowing them enough time to scramble onto the roofs of the buildings and evade the jaws of death.

However, now they had a new problem.

Though the beasts were pathetic at climbing, they were masters at excavation, and many had begun to burrow at the town Hall’s foundations. Sly knew that eventually the beasts would bring the entire building crashing to the ground given enough time.

“Snuffling vermin better have left my geo alone...” Sly swore darkly, his hoard of riches having been left behind in his cellar when the tremors first started. 

“How can you think of geo at a time like this?” Elderbug questioned, aghast and frankly unnerved by how calm the fly merchant was.

“Geo is always on my mind, old one!” Sly replied sternly, hefting his oversized weapon over his shoulders. “Geo is what drives bugs towards innovation and their inevitable destiny or drives them towards their own self destruction!”

“ _Mrrrew..._ ” 

It was then that the bugs looked up, spotting the recently escaped Grimmchild fluttering overhead, gazing down at them curiously with their glowing crimson eyes.

“Oh, so the fire-starter finally appears,” Sly acknowledged with a huff. “Took you long enough. I was beginning to think you’d been eaten!”

“ _Mrrew..._ ” was the only reply Gritten had to offer as they circled closer. Then they spat a fireball at one of the hairy beasts clawing at the side of the building.

The fireball hit the beast square on the head, causing it to emit a surprised grunt and slump back to the ground, scuffing at the scorched hairs with a clawed paw in confused irritation. 

Gritten seemed offended by the beast’s dumbfounded reaction and spat more fireballs down on the horde; spraying a volley of embers.

“Oi! Cut that out before you set the building on fire!” Sly demanded, his own wings fluttering in agitation as the Grimmchild ignored him.

The beasts yowled and shook their massive heads, not comprehending where the sudden onslaught of burning cinders were coming from. The embers of flame alighting onto their fur and scorching the pink flesh beneath. The attack wasn’t enough to kill or even severely wound the creatures, but they were so surprised by the attack that they quickly began backing away, trying to flee from the small stabs of burning pain.

Gritten, feeling emboldened by the creatures’ fear, swooped and flitted about as they sprayed more fire balls at the beasts, causing several to scurry away into their holes. Some lashed out with their digging claws, but their aim was so poor that Gritten had no trouble avoiding them. 

The Muldvarps couldn’t see what was attacking them, relying solely on vibrations felt through the ground and their sense of smell to navigate and target their prey; they couldn’t sense the presence of a flying creature nearly as accurately as they would if the assailant were ground-bound.

“Hmm,” Sly hummed in sudden thought as he observed this. Perhaps they could use this to their advantage, if the beasts were that stupid and blind, there might be hope for them yet.

***

Meanwhile, Nailmaster Oro had ascended to the Forgotten Crossroads via the City’s elevator. He was not sure as to what guided him towards the surface, but it was force that couldn’t be ignored. 

He had yet to come across any more of those Muldarp creatures, but he suspected that was soon to change as he stepped out of the stone corridor and into the Crossroads proper.

Before, the Forgotten Crossroads had a dilapidated, dusty feel to it that was expected of old ruins. Now, the Crossroads was sieged by a new type of ruin – not of stagnant stasis and disuse over time – but by pure destruction. 

Every few yards the ground was churned in some way or another; heaved upwards into mounds of disturbed dirt and rubble –leaving gaping holes and pitfalls littering the passages.

Oro gave these signs little more than cursory glances as he passed by. It was clear that the Muldvarps had already ravaged the place, however they weren’t here now. Oro wondered why they were absent, perhaps something else had attracted them elsewhere?

As the Nailmaster continued further into the Crossroads with no signs of the Muldvarps, he suddenly stopped as he became aware of a scraping sound, like metal being dragged across stone.

The Nailmaster stood with his great nail at the ready as the sound became more audible the closer whatever the source was got. It was coming from just around the corner, when Nailmaster Oro finally caught sight of it.

From around the bend stepped out a being that was so tall that they needed to hunch over in order to avoid clipping their towering serrated horns on the stone ceiling. The sound, Oro realized, had come from the fractured nail-lance the being was dragging behind them.

The being, despite it’s intimidating stature, looked like it had seen better days. Their shell was cracked and worn in several places, and their mask had a jagged scar running along its brow to its black pit of an eye-socket that was visible from beneath the torn remains of what looked like gauze wrappings. Black liquid dribbled from the being’s wounds, and Oro could see as it turned to fully face him that the being was also missing an arm, the shell around where the shoulder _should_ have been was twisted and disfigured like the gnarled bark of a tree.

For several tense seconds, the two just stared at each-other, neither making any move to provoke the other first.

 

**Ď͓̫̞̟̎ͩ͞ͅo̎ͩ͊̔̄̃͆҉̞̗͖̟̰͓̟ ͩͣ̒̈́ͣ͢y̘̝̿ͭ͂ͦͥͦ͡o̢͈̖͖̣̝ͤ͗̇͋̽u̢͖-̭ͅͅ-͓̘̠͙̖͎̗̎ͣͧͩ̈́ͪͦ.̙̖͇̼̪̂ͭ͛.̡͙̺͓͙̱͎͈͋͑͛͂͐ͫ̑.̬̠̠̻͆̓̋.̻͕̞̱̬̫̝ͣ̋͊.̶̖s͉ͧ͊ͮͧ̉ͥị͈̩͖͚ͩb̪̞͔̺̥̥̖̈́̒͑ͩͧ͜lͧ̒ͦͯ͌̓̈i͙͚̩͖̖̖͑̽̑n̜̬̰̟͚̪̄g̭̉ͯͬ̆ͮ̈̚͝s̼̩ͯͮ.̡̞̋̅́.̲͇̅͒͌.̻̭̝͇͕̺̟̾́͝.̮͕͚̣͖̓̋ͭͩͩw̺̗͉h͊.̡͍͇̼ͨ̈́ͅ.͐̀̏̈́.̢̠̗̤͉̗̺͙̑ͯ͒̎.̷̹̦̗̱̤h̶̹̜̰e̡͇̝l̰̟̲̹̙͙̓̐̅͝p͚̞̗͛.̩̤̹̃̋̾͋̍̂́͟.̦̖.̣̅.̻͉͈̫̟ͦ**

 

Oro fell into a defensive stance as the horrible hissing static pierced his mind, staggering to one knee and grunting at the sudden pain in his head.

The noise stopped as soon as it had began, and the being tilted its head down at him but made no moves to see if Oro was alright nor attempted take advantage of the Nailmaster’s moment of weakness.

“Urgh…” Oro rubbed his head in an effort to relieve the sudden migraine threatening to take hold. “Whatever that was…I’d appreciate it if you’d refrain from doing it again.”

The being made a wet snort in response, which Oro could not interpret, but he chose to assume it was an agreement.

“You look familiar.” Nailmaster Oro suddenly said as he recovered from the headache. As soon as he saw the being, a part of his mind nagged him that he had seen this being before, though perhaps in a less wounded state, and it was only now that he finally pinpointed where. “That Hollow Knight figure on the memorial.”

The being dipped its head slightly in affirmation. Yes, they were the Hollow Knight, but of course they had no idea who Nailmaster Oro was, having never met him. They tried to convey such, but feared that in their current state their message would only be received as a mess of intelligible noise. However, it seemed that Oro was one step ahead of the Hollow Knight. 

“I guessed as much, I will not pry as to why you’re here. It seems we both have found ourselves in similar situation in the wake of this crisis that fallen upon Hallownest.” He gestured to the three diagonal scars in his armor, unaware that the Hollow Knight was blind and hadn’t seen the motion at all. “However, I’m sensing that our paths diverge from one another’s by a margin. We both have different objectives to attain.”

The Hollow Knight neither nodded or shook their head, instead they seemed to consider the Nailmaster for a moment before turning away and limping down the corridor beyond.

“Good luck to you as well,” Oro huffed, heading down a different corridor which he hoped would him lead to the surface. “Strange individual…”


	18. Elsewhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Otherwise known as Part 2 of How the Heck is Everyone Else Dealing with the Crisis.

Back at the Crossroads, Myla had been taking a break from her work for once, choosing to sit in her alcove and hum a tune as she fretted over her pickaxe. The tool was becoming dull, and she could see the chip in the axe head from when she’d struck a particularly sturdy chunk of rock.

“Oh d-dear, I suppose I-I’ll have t-to fix it later.” Myla sighed, she could always go and find another pickaxe; plenty were laying about in the mines, but she was rather fond of her pickaxe and did not want to part with it.

She decided that her break was over, not that she had any overseers anymore to tell her such, but old habits die hard and so she got up and hefted her pickaxe to begin swinging at the rocks once more.

Ping!…Ping!…Ping!…

The familiar sound of her pick striking rock filled the room, and she soon found herself humming her usual song.

“Ohhh, bury the knight with her velvet gloves, bury the thief with the one she loved!”

Ping!…Ping!…Ping!…

“Bury the Priest in her tattered gown, then bury the beggar and his golden croooown—huh?”

The sound of crystals being disturbed behind her caused the little miner to pause in her work long enough to turn around, and she squealed in panic when a large claw reached out and plucked her from the ground.

“EEEEEEEEEAH!!!” Myla screamed in fright as she was effortlessly pulled up and out of her alcove and into the light, all she could do was shut her eyes tight and cling to her pickaxe as she waited for the end.

But the end never came.

After several seconds of nothing happening, Myla became aware that although she was currently being held in the lethal talons of another creature, the claws were holding her in a firm yet gentle grip.

Myla risked cracking an eye open, and the tattered, battle-scarred visage of the Hollow Knight stared back at her.

“Eep!” She squeaked with barely contained fear. “Ohh d-d-dear, w-w-what—I mean! Why—oh, oh my…” She stumbled over her words as she tried to come up with a proper response to the situation.

Myla didn’t know how to act around such an imposing and downright scary figure such as the Hollow Knight. When she had first been introduced to the adult Vessel, all she could manage was a stuttering ‘hello’ before turning away and focussing solely on the little ones and her crystalized friend.

But now the Hollow Knight was here, looking even scarier than before, and she was _alone_ with them!

“P-p-p-please…!” Myla squeaked in a tiny voice, “d-d-don’t eat me!”

The Hollow Knight let out a whistling hiss that sounded like steam from a boiling kettle, causing Myla to emit another ‘Eep!’. She shut her eyes again and shivered, believing that she’d somehow angered them.

However, the Hollow Knight had their attention elsewhere as they ‘looked’ over their shoulder at the corridor behind them; sensing something that Myla didn’t.

Before Myla realized what was happening, the Hollow Knight deposited her onto the nape of their neck, where she reflexively grabbed onto one of their large horns to steady herself. Then the adult Vessel retrieved their cracked nail-lance – which had been laying on the floor at their feet – before hunching over and began moving deeper into the mines.

“Wait! Where are w-w-we going?” Myla asked, but the Hollow Knight did not respond.

 

—-  
—-

_In the Fungal Wastes, the Mantis tribe were not pardoned from the threat of the Muldvarps. After the defeat of the Traitor Lord and the purge of the Infection, the remaining traitorous followers were brought to justice by the claws of the tribe they had betrayed._

_Those who wished to rejoin and repent for their sins were given the chance to prove themselves once more by facing judgement via combat. Those who did not were either cut down or driven away._

_Now, there was another uprising the Mantis Lords had to contend with. An uprising of beasts that appeared from the ground, catching many of the tribe’s skilled warriors by surprise._

_However, the Youths of the tribe were able to evade the ground-bound creatures and retaliated with enough ferocity to make their Lords proud; attacking the beasts from above and stinging at their beady eyes and snouts._

_The creatures quickly retreated back down the holes they’d dug, finding the inhabitants of the Fungal Wastes a bit too vicious for their liking, and the spores in the air blocked their sense of smell and made breathing a bit too difficult to tolerate._

_The Muldvarps were hungry and tenacious in their search for food, but even they were not desperate enough to linger where the creatures blasted poisonous gas and shot explosive spores._

_Perhaps the pickings would be easier in greener pastures._

—-  
—-

Upon the Howling Cliffs, a figure stood on the edge of a plateau above the gravestone of someone long forgotten. 

Nailmaster Mato gazed out into the murky haze that clouded the surrounding landscape from sight; his nail held at his side with the point buried in the ground. 

Little Stag had wanted to visit the Stag Nest, and had sheepishly asked Mato to accompany them. Of course, Mato was more than happy to oblige and now here he was, waiting by the exit whilst Little Stag paid their respects to the dozen fallen stag beetles that had made the Stag Nest their final resting place.

Nailmaster Mato liked to believe that he was a patient fellow; certainly more patient than his loathsome brother, Oro, but Little Stag was certainly taking their time mourning the deceased stag beetles.

“Perhaps I should check up on them. See how they are fairing.” Mato thought aloud, turning towards the mouth of the corridor that led to the chamber of the Stag Nest.

As soon as he made his way inside, he almost instantly sensed that something was amiss, and so he paused to look about the room.

“Little Stag?” He called out cautiously, but he received no answer. His voice echoed through the chamber ominously. 

Worried for his young friend, Nailmaster Mato quickly descended to the main floor of the chamber, not even waiting for the lift to touch down as he leapt off and sprinted past the husks of long deceased stag beetles. For a large bug, Mato could move quite swiftly when he wanted to.

When Mato came to the platform where the stagstation was, he felt his shoulders sag with relief as he spotted the young stag beetle standing on the stagway path. However, that relief quickly turned to concern as he got closer.

Little Stag was standing still, facing down the tunnel of the stagway and peering into the depths beyond with a strange intensity, as though they were trying to listen for a sound or catch sight of something.

“Little Stag, are you well?” Mato inquired, standing at the edge of the platform.

The young stag beetle’s head jerked sharply towards Mato, as if they hadn’t noticed his presence until he’d spoken. For a moment, they blinked bemusedly up at their friend, before returning their gaze to the tunnel.

“I am not sure,” Little Stag said, “I feel like…trouble, very bad trouble is happening. I feel it in my hooves.”

Mato hummed a question mark, glancing down the tunnel as well, but he could not see anything of particular interest. “Hmm…trouble, you say? Whereabouts do you feel that this trouble is brewing?”

Little Stag shook their head, snorting.“I don’t know. It’s stupid. Let’s just go back, I wish to leave now.” 

“Nonsense! If you feel that your gut is telling you something then you should trust it, my friend! Ignoring it will more often than not cause you to stray from your true calling.”

Little Stag grumbled, scuffing their hoof on the ground. If they didn’t give the Nailmaster an answer, he would launch into one of his lectures about honor and what it meant to be a master of the Nail Arts, despite the fact that the young stag beetle had absolutely no interest in weapons nor did they posses the means to wield one. 

“I don’t know—Dirtmouth, maybe?” They offered lamely.

The Nailmaster blinked, then a knowing twinkle shown in his eyes that made Little Stag instantly regret having spoken at all.

“Ah, if you wanted to visit the little ones again, you had only needed to say so!”

“Wh—What?!” Little Stag spluttered incredulously. “That isn’t—!”

“Say no more, friend! We shall go to Dirtmouth right away so you can see your friends. They will be excited to see us again so soon after the snow melt. Let us travel there immediately!”

It was no use, Little Stag knew their fate was sealed and that there would be no talking the Nailmaster out of his already set path.

—-  
—-

_In Greenpath, very few of the Muldvarps could get past the acidic waters pooling everywhere, but in the few pockets of dry land they dug into, they were met with more flying and spitting insects._

_One very unlucky Muldvarp had the great misfortune of tunneling into a cavern that was already occupied by an equally – if not more – ferocious hunter._

_To put it simply, having encroached upon Hallownest from the kingdom’s eastern side, the Muldvarps did not get far beyond the Crossroads._

—-  
—-

Nailmaster Oro finally found out where the Muldvarps had congregated, near the surface of the Crossroads, just below the little town of Dirtmouth.He had heard the sound of mighty claws scraping at dirt and rumble, and spotted the recently dug holes in the walls. There was even a stray Muldvarp just below the Well, oblivious to the Nailmaster’s presence as its attention was occupied with scratching a patch of burnt hair atop its head. Nailmaster Oro had no trouble with dispatching the beast before it realized he was there.

As the slain creature’s crimson blood pooled across the stone floor, Oro looked up at the light shining down the Well and grabbed onto the iron chain hanging down from the archway at the top of the Well. 

Oro may not be the most sociable bug in Hallownest, but it was lawful that he aid the townsfolk who were no doubt being attacked by the tunneling creatures. 

He began to climb, holstering his great-nail over his shoulder and using both hands to heave himself upwards. 

—-  
—-

_The Resting Grounds had been torn asunder. Graves were upheaved from the earth, and mummified corpses were torn open and strewn about the raided graves. The Muldvarps did not linger there long, but their presence disturbed the souls resting there none the less._

—-  
—-

On the surface, the townsfolk trapped on the roof of the town hall were huddling as close to the center as possible, the building had to shutter as the Muldvarps began chewing at the foundations.

Gritten had done their best to deter the beasts from digging at the building, but they only had so much fuel in them before they were spent, and now they were resting atop Elderbug’s head; panting with exhaustion.

Bretta was trembling next to Elderbug, her claws fidgeting anxiously. Iselda and Cornifer were holding each other, and Sly was trying to think of a way out of their predicament with mounting agitation.

There was a loud groan of old wood straining upon rickety supports, a corner of the town hall suddenly sank several feet as the ground beneath it began to crumble. Everyone screamed in panic and alarm as they scrambled to avoid falling off.

The Muldvarps were in a frenzy, the earth churned like water as they started digging underneath the building with renewed vigor. 

“GAAAHHSSSOOOOOOOOOHHH!!!”

A raging battlecry split the air, and suddenly the Muldvarps were sent sprawling as a large figure plowed through them. A devastating Dash Slash cutting through the throng of beasts surrounding the building.

The building’s imminent collapse was halted for a few more precious moments as the Muldvarps turned their attention towards the new threat. Sly’s eyes widened as he spotted his once wayward student, battling against the beasts with an all too familiar Nail art. 

“Oro?!” Sly cried out in shock, scarcely believing his eyes.

The Nailmaster glanced up, his own expression twitched with surprise before quickly masking the emotion with stoic neutrality. “Go now, Nailsage! I will distract the curs whilst you all get to safety.” He then wheeled around and smashed the flat of his nail across the face of a Muldvarp that was trying to lunge at him.

“You—!” Sly’s retort was cut short as the building shuttered again, jostling the group and threatening to cause them all to fall off. 

Apparently, while the Muldvarps had not exactly succeeded in bringing the town hall down, they had severely weakened the structure’s supports and it would not be long until it came toppling down on its own.

“Gah!” Sly spat, turning to the frightened townsfolk. “Alright! This place is going to come crashing down with all of us with it. We must get off this roof before that happens. Time is of the essence!”

“But how are we to do that?” Elderbug shouted over the din of the battle taking place below.

“Like this!” Sly shoved Elderbug over the back side of the building, the old bug yelped in alarm and instinctively curled into a ball as he rolled down the curved structure, where he landed in a dazed heap. Gritten hovered overhead before floating down to land atop Ederbug’s head.

Bretta shot one frightened look at Sly before she too was sent tumbling down the sloped side of the building with a lady-like squeak of terror. 

Cornifer went down in a similar fashion, though instead of rolling, he simply laid down on his shelled back and slid down.

Iselda gracefully leapt from the rooftop, landing on her feet without so much as a stumble, much to Sly’s surprise. She must have had experience as a warrior perhaps. 

Sly was the last to follow, fluttering his wings to slow his descent to the ground.

“Hurry up, you lot!” Sly snapped, “We must head to the elevator to the Crystal Peak! The crystals should provide safer refuge.” Sly dearly hoped the beasts could not dig through crystal.

—-  
—-

_The Waterways quickly became filled with the invading beasts, having found weak points in the stone that allowed them to infiltrate. The Muldvarps gorged themselves on the many parasitic bugs that infested the place. Flukemons were picked off by the dozens; Fluekey were cornered in the cramped spaces of the passages; Hwurmps bumped uselessly against the hides of the beasts, and Pilflips were no match to their jaws. The Belflies were the only creatures to have any success in deterring the Muldvarps, but their explosive victories were bittersweet._

—-  
—-

As the townsfolk began rushing towards the elevator stationed near the graveyard, Nailmaster Oro fought on.

These Muldvarps – Oro realized as he blocked an incoming blow from a claw – bore scars and wounds before he’d arrived, and he realized that at least some of them were the same Muldvarps he’d fought alongside Hornet at the Kingdom’s Edge; the ones who had survived being stung to death by the Hivelings. These Muldvarps recognized his smell, and were being more cautious with their attacks. 

Whilst one rushed him from the front, another two would attack him from behind. Oro had to stretch his skills and strength to their limits to avoid being carved up on the spot, they had somehow managed to surround him in a similar fashion as they had done in the Kingdom’s Edge, and now they were going in for the kill.

Oro was forced to go on the defensive, the Muldvarps not allowing him the chance to retaliate as they struck at him from all sides, alternating between one another and shifting out of the way as soon as Oro brought his great-nail to bear, only to be immediatly forced to block another strike from a different Muldvarp.

The devils were trying to tire him out, and it was working. Oro had underestimated the beasts’ intelligence; they apparently had enough sense to coordinate an attack on a foe they’d fought before.

Oro grunted as a searing pain slashed through his side, and he swung his blade to cleave the daring Muldvarp’s face open. It shrieked and backed away behind the safety of its brethren, who were eager to take revenge.

Oro’s breathing was heavy, pain pulsed in time with his heartbeat from multiple wounds that wept his blood. Shallow cuts they were, but they were beginning to stack up against his stamina. He had succeeded in severely wounding six Muldvarps, and only managed to kill one.

Oro realized bitterly that his previous encounter with the creatures had drained his strength much more than he’d realized. The diagonal scars on his chest armor had reopened, and it was becoming hard to breath.

The Muldvarps were closing in.

“GAAAAHHHSHOOOOOOOOHHH!” A battlecry, but it was not from Oro. 

The worn Nailmaster raised his head just in time to see a familiar figure leap into the fray with a spinning whirl of his great-nail, landing squarely beside Oro and causing the Muldvarps to recoil for a moment.

“Oro.” Nailmaster Mato acknowledged without looking at his twin brother.

“Mato.” Nailmaster Oro greeted in a similarly short fashion as he readied his nail once more and took up a fighting stance. His back to his brother’s as he faced the enemy.

The Muldvarps snarled and spat in outrage and hunger, the arrival of a new enemy having spoiled their attempts to kill the one who had already slaughtered many of their kind.

“I still haven’t forgotten what you owe me, _brother._ ” Mato said in a low voice.

“Hmph,” was Oro’s only response. They would have time to sort that old can of worms later, however. 

The two brothers brought their great-nails to bear, and with twin roaring battlecries, they faced the oncoming horde head-on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't worry, we'll get back to Ghost and fam in the next chapter.


	19. Regroup, Rethink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Otherwise known as: Still Dealing with Moles - Part: ???

In the City’s Storeroom, the Old Stag was feeling much better after resting for the duration of the group’s stay and appeared ready to brave the stagways once more by the time the group returned.

“Are you sure you are up for the trip, friend?” Quirrel asked the Old Stag worriedly.

“Of course. Even if the path ahead is infested with ground burrowing creatures, a stag must perform their duty to the Stagstations,” came the Old Stag’s reply.

“Hold on,” Hornet interjected, cutting in front of Quirrel with a swift lash of her blade. “If we’re going to risk using the stagways to get to Dirtmouth, at least tell us why doing so is necessary to your plan.”

“It’s not exactly a plan,” Quirrel admitted, “more of an idea really, but a sound one that just might work if I can get to the tablets the little ones and I collected from the City a while back. We stored them in Sly’s basement, and I recall one of the records held an in-depth layout of the Royal Waterways and its pipelines.”

“And what exactly does that have to do with our current situation?” Hornet asked impatiently. “If you haven’t already noticed, the Muldvarps cannot penetrate through the stone and the Waterways do not lead anywhere other than the backwaters of the Mantis Village and the Kingdom’s Edge. Besides, we already have a map of that area with us at present!”

“Ah, but not an in-depth map! I need to know the layout of the pipes and where they lead. I prepose that we can neutralize the Muldvarp threat if we lure them into someplace they cannot escape, then once they are trapped, we close off the Waterways and redirect the water flow so that the entire place floods.”

For a few moments, Hornet, Ghost and the gaggle merely stared at Quirrel with unreadable expressions before Hornet finally spoke.

“That is undoubtedly the most ambitious and convoluted plan that I have ever heard,” then on second thought, she added: “besides the little Ghost’s plan to fight the Infection at its source, that is.” 

Ghost had the impulse to point out that it was actually Hornet who had given them the idea that such a feat was even possible to begin with, but of course they were unable to point that out at the moment, so they settled with giving their half-sister a really hard stare that she did not bother to acknowledge. Most aggravating was Hornet’s denial in having played any part in encouraging Ghost to go toe-to-toe with the Radiance. 

“Well, it is a better plan than diving headlong into the fray and getting ourselves killed.” Quirrel rebuked, gesturing emphatically. “If we do this, we will eliminate the Muldvarps in one blow without the risk of potential fatalities that are more likely to occur if we fought them head-on.”

“And just how exactly do you plan to lead those creatures into your trap? I find it difficult to believe that they would be easily fooled into venturing into a place that they cannot dig out of.”

“They obviously navigate by touch and smell, we can bait them if we––”

“Bait them with what?! And to where? They can’t get into the City let alone deep enough into the Waterways to be trapped there!”

“On the contrary!” A boisterous voice echoed from across the way, and everyone turned just in time to see a round figure leap into the room. “The mud mooching blighters have already swarmed the Royal Waterways; enticed by the many hoodlums populating the fair city’s sewage!”

Quirrel had to stop himself from reflexively waving a hand in the air to ward off the sudden stench that now wafted into the station. He glanced questioningly at Hornet, who was steadfastly ignoring the fact that Tiny had ducked beneath her skirt in fright at the newcomer’s loud entrance. 

“What are you doing here, Dung Defender?” Her words were clipped, and she looked ready to stab something.

“As I’ve previously stated!” The Dung Defender did not seem to notice Hornet’s vehement mood as he declared bombastically. “A great many of the creatures have congregated within the waterways of the city. I heard their obnoxious snuffling and scrabbling, so I sought to leave my post in hopes that something might be done about it!”

“How many do you suppose are down there?” Quirrel inquired before Hornet could say anything.

“Quite a lot! I witnessed many burrowing into the refuge down below. Won’t be long till they start reproducing, I reckon!” It was then that the Dung Defender seemed to notice Ghost standing near Hornet’s side. “Oh, it’s you again, little knight! It is good to see a fellow warrior up and about during this time of crisis!”

Ghost stared at the ex-knight Ogrim, reflecting momentarily back on how –instead of choosing to stay and fight – they had fled with the rest of their family. At the moment, they did not feel like they had done anything remotely productive these past few months. The thought made them even more restless to hurry and start cutting into the Muldvarps, and they were actually entertaining the idea of heading out on their own if Quirrel and Hornet kept arguing.

It was at this moment that the Dung Defender finally caught sight of the two little Vessels huddling behind Ghost; the Tiniest having emerged from their hiding place to stare curiously at him.

“Ah, hello there, littler ones!” Ogrim greeted cheerily after a beat of hesitation at seeing more Vessels. “Are you here to fight the good fight as well? We most certainly could use the help, hoh ho ho hoh!” 

Hornet swiveled her head in a motion that suggested she was rolling her eyes. “Of course not, don’t be ridiculous. Besides, _Quirrel_ here has a plan that will supposedly allow us to deal with the Muldvarps with minimal casualties.”

“Oh? Does he now?” Ogrim turned his attention to the scholarly bug. “Let us hear it then, eh?”

Quirrel wasn’t sure if this ‘Dung Defender’ was making fun of him or not, but he decided that he might as well humor the dung beetle.

“Well, you see we––” 

However, he did not get the chance to explain as the sound of galloping hoof-steps brought everyone’s attention toward the stagway, but the Old Stag had not moved and was just as surprised as they were.

The Old Stag made to turn around but it was too late as the Little Stag crashed into his backside, causing the former to let out a surprised grunt as he staggered forward a few passes to allow the other stag beetle to fully dock into the station.

“Little Stag, what are you doing here? The stagways have become far more treacherous as of late.” The Old Stag scolded.

Little Stag shook themselves from their daze, as if they had just realized that they had hit something. They looked around at the stagstation, breath coming out in puffing chuffs as they took a moment to regain their senses.

“I-I was trying to get to Dirtmouth’s stagstation,” Little Stag explained, trying to hide the tremor in their voice. “We were—we were at the Stagnest. I sensed something was strange, and Nailmaster Mato decided that we head to Dirtmouth. He said he’d go through the King’s Pass; that he’d catch up whilst I headed through the stagways to Dirtmouth since the sled no longer worked without any snow. But—” the young stag shuttered and gulped down a calming breath before continuing. “But Dirtmouth’s stagstation was caved in, and there were these creatures! They chased me through-out the stagways, coming out of the ground like dirtcarvers! I c-couldn’t…”

The Little Stag’s words trailed off into troubled whimpers as they stared at the stone floor, and the Old Stag nudged them with a hind-leg before backing up to stand beside the smaller stag; giving them a reassuring nuzzle.

Everyone was silent, the shock and dismay at the news Little Stag had brought made everyone tense with grim trepidation. It seemed like getting to Dirtmouth through the stagways was out of the question, and they all dreaded to think of what was happening to the poor town above.

Ghost’s claws were clenched into fists; they should be up there fighting, they should be _doing_ something! How many innocent bugs have died due to the Muldvarps’ invasion? Was the faded town of Dirtmouth even still standing, or had it already been reduced to rubble?

_Couldn’t save them…_

_It’s all your fault…you ran away…_

_You could have done something…_

_You could have saved them… ___

__Poisonous thoughts swirled within the young Knight’s mind, and the anger boiled within them like molten lead. They hardly noticed the fact that those who could speak were now arguing amongst themselves on what should be done. Quirrel, Hornet, Ogrim and even the Old Stag were at it. All _talking_ , but none were doing anything! _ _

__Talking was a waste of time, Ghost thought to themselves bitterly, and without so much as a sound they turned and slipped out of the storerooms without anyone noticing._ _

__Anyone, except for Tiny, Two and Three._ _

__

__——-_ _

__Myla was feeling very nervous. She had no idea where the Hollow Knight was taking her, or why they were heading deeper and deeper into the crystal mines. The mines were safer now that most of the infected bugs had perished, but the machines and conveyor belts were still quite active._ _

__Myla was trembling with anxiety, having long since slung her pickaxe over her back to hold onto the Hollow Knight’s crest with both claws. Several times she had expected the Hollow Knight to trip or bump into something in their blind state, but she was surprised at how deft the Vessel was. They would hold their lance out in front of them at a downward angle to detect obstacles in their path, but otherwise seemed to know where they were going for the most part, as if they had tread through the mines before. Perhaps a long time ago._ _

__It was during this time that Myla became aware that the Hollow Knight was heading up, and she pondered over the possible places they were intending to reach._ _

__A shard of crystal whizzed past them, and Myla glanced over her shoulder to see a Crystal Hunter had caught sight of them and was now on the offense._ _

__The Hollow Knight paused as the crystal shard impacted the floor at their feet, sprouting into a sharp hazard instantaneously._ _

__The Hollow Knight turned their visage slightly in the direction of the crystalized creature, before stepping over the sharp shrub of crystal and continuing down the corridor at a brisker pace than before._ _

__The Crystal Hunter did not like being so flippantly ignored, and with a hum of its wings more Crystal Hunters came buzzing from the niches in the stone walls, all giving chase._ _

__Crystal shards shot at the large Vessel, most missing, but a few had managed to graze the Hollow Knight’s chitin as they dashed down the crystalline corridors._ _

__They turned a corner and Myla suddenly saw a crystal outcrop hanging from the ceiling._ _

__“Look out!” She cried and without thinking, she threw her weight to the left horn, practically hanging off of it in an effort to avoid being smashed into the crystal; the Hollow Knight’s head veered wildly to the side, just narrowly avoiding collision with the ceiling bound crystal._ _

__The Hollow Knight slowed for a brief moment, allowing Myla to resituated herself on the crown of their head. The Hollow Knight made a perturbed garbling sound, but decided it was best to hurry on before the Crystal Hunters caught up._ _

__Incidences where Myla had to warn the Hollow Knight of obstacles on the ceiling became more and more numerous the higher they went, and the unlikely pair soon fell into a rhythem consisting of Myla tapping the Vessel’s horn or the other to alert them of low archways whilst the Hollow Knight did all the leg work up the mine shafts._ _

__They eventually came upon a sign that had the symbol of a village painted on it, pointing down another corridor ahead, and though the Hollow Knight couldn’t see it in their blindness, they seemed to know it was there and quickly turned down that corridor._ _

__“W-w-wait!” Myla tugged back on the Hollow Knight’s horns, and they stopped abruptly with an airy hiss. “T-t-there is a chasm ahead! It’s a dead end…”_ _

__There was a moment of silence as the Hollow Knight stood at the edge, where the floor dropped into sharp crystals. There should have been a railway there for the mine-carts to roll across, but age had caused the rails to collapse into the crystalline chasm below._ _

__The Hollow Knight was still, as though listening intently to something that Myla couldn’t hear, before their legs tensed and they jumped. Then for a split second, her vision went black and her stomach dropped as a weightlessness overcame her and she gasped aloud as her vision returned, only to realize that they were no longer standing in the same place they once were._ _

__“Huh?” Myla glanced around, then looked behind her. “But that––how did––how?!” They couldn’t have jumped all the way to the second platform. It wasn’t possible! No bug could jump that far, even if they were very tall._ _

__However, the Hollow Knight didn’t seem to care._ _

__—---_ _

__“I can’t believe this!” Sly exclaimed as he and the other townsfolk got off the elevator and onto the elevated platform. “All these years those oafs have never bothered to visit their old sage, then after that pale knight came about, suddenly they remember that I exist!”_ _

__“I hardly think it matters at the moment,” Elderbug said as they made their way into the safety of the Crystal Peak. “It was fortunate that those great warriors arrived when they did. Otherwise I doubt we would have made it out as unscathed as we are now.”_ _

__The group entered the cavern, were they came upon a wide crystal chasm. It seemed that the ones who could not fly wouldn’t be able to go any further in the mines without some other means of crossing._ _

__“What now?” Iseldia spoke aloud the question that was on everyone’s mind. “Are we to simply stay here until the creatures grow bored and leave?”_ _

__“ _Mrrrehh…_ ” Gritten mewed and fluttered off of Elderbug’s head, hovering in the air and looking about. They remembered this place; when Ghost had collected the scarlet flame from the Grimkin. _ _

__Gritten then caught sight of something in the distance, and yucked a fire ball to alert the others that they weren’t alone in the cavern._ _

__There was a warping sound of displaced air and suddenly the Hollow Knight teleported amidst the group of bugs, landing on the ground with wheezing growl as the townsfolk cried out in varying levels of surprise and fear._ _

__“Oops!” Myla exclaimed as she glanced about the crowd from her vantage point atop the Hollow Knight’s head. “Sorry!”_ _

__“Myla?!” Bretta shouted in shock._ _

__Myla looked down, and a smile broke across her face as she waved. “Oh hi, Bretta!” She tapped twice on the Hollow Knight’s head, and the latter leaned down to let the miner bug hop off._ _

__“Oh my, I’m so glad to see you!” Bretta squeed with delight as the two exchanged pleasantries. “You have no idea what I have been through these past nights. The horror! The abandonment! The betrayal! And my valiant Grey Prince! Ohhh!”_ _

__Before anyone knew it, the two young lasses were chittering amongst themselves and gossiping about recent events._ _

__Thee Hollow Knight seemed nonplussed by how quickly the little miner could turn from being a stuttering mess to a babbling chatter-bug once she was in the company of someone she knew._ _

__“ _Mrrew!” Gritten made themselves known, flying around the Hollow Knight’s head with curiosity. They knew of Ghost’s eldest sibling, but they’d never actually met the fella.__ _

___The Hollow Knight seemed to tense at sensing the Grimmchild’s fiery aura, they did not need eyes to see what it was. Its burning flames were familiar, like the Radiance, but twisted and red; nightmarish in nature._ _ _

___“ _Mrrew?…_ ” Gritten hovered and cocked their head at the Hollow Knight, oblivious to its pointed scrutiny._ _ _

___“Well, now that we’ve managed to evade the rancid teeth of those beasts.” Cornifer spoke up, unfurling a map which he had retrieved from his satchel. “We should probably get someplace more accommodating to our circumstances. I doubt we can all wait around here on this tiny platform for long.”_ _ _

___The others seemed to agree with that sentiment._ _ _

___“But… how exactly are we suppose to get across this chasm?” Elderbug inquired tentatively, inconspicuously edging away from Sly in case the fly merchant decided to answer the question in a not so prudent way._ _ _

___One by one, everyone eventually turned their eyes on the Hollow Knight._ _ _

___The Hollow Knight gave a grating sigh._ _ _

___—-_ _ _

___Meanwhile, Tiny and the others were stealthily stalking their older sibling through the corridors; the rain hid the pitter-patter of their small feet as they ducked from shadow to shadow. Mute Children were incredibly good at being sneaky when they could not whisper to one another or giggle mischievously._ _ _

___Besides that, Ghost was too focussed on their set destination to notice they were being followed anyways._ _ _

___By the time the gaggle had reached the place where the sewer hatch was, Ghost had already popped the lid open with their nail and had leapt down into the murky depths without an ounce of hesitation._ _ _

___Tiny, Two and Three stood around the rim of the hole, peering down into it with uncertainty. It looked dark down there, and the Dung Defender said that the place was now creeping with Muldvarps, but Ghost was down there._ _ _

___None of them wanted to lose another sibling.  
One by one, the three Vessels hopped down into the hatch, disappearing into the depths below._ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _what part of 'regroup' do you not understand?!_


	20. Get Mad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone runs around in circles

Back at the City’s Storerooms, someone finally noticed that a few certain someones were missing.

“Hang on, where are the children?” Quirrel suddenly spoke up, interrupting the spat happening between the Dung Defender and Hornet over some trivial detail or another. 

Everyone paused and each one became aware of the fact that Ghost and the others were no longer in the room.

Hornet gave a growl before actually yelling in frustration. “Damn it! I should have known that little Ghost would have gone to deal with this alone!”

“Awfully quiet those ones can be,” Ogrim muttered under his breath, before speaking up. “We must hurry and search for them! They could be in grave danger, we must find them before the Muldvarp scum find them first!” The Dung Defender drummed his claws on his chest with determination, not waiting a moment later before he was already diving out of the Storeroom.

“He’s right,” Quirrel reaffirmed. “We have to find them. I’m not as concerned about Ghost’s wellbeing as I am about the children; I know Ghost can handle themselves, but I doubt they could defend all three of their siblings for long if the Muldvarps find them.”

Hornet was already rushing past Quirrel and was headed out the Storerooms before he’d even finished the sentence. “Agreed, You stay here in case they come back!” She called back over her shoulder before zipping out of sight.

Quirrel looked like he wanted to argue, but instead sighed in resignation. It was probably best that he did stay behind; he suspected that Hornet and the Dung Defender were likely much more familiar with the City’s layout than he was and could get around more quickly. But that did not mean he liked the idea of waiting around and doing nothing.

——

 

The Waterways were dark, damp and cold. The sound of liquid constantly dripping off the water stained walls echoed all around them, and the periodic _scritching_ noise of creepy crawlies moving about made the place all the more disquieting and uncomfortable to be in.

Ghost didn’t care; they’ve experienced far worse, and besides, there were more pressing matters at hand. 

They didn’t have a particular plan in mind, only a intuitive sense that seemed to guide them forwards – similar to how they first felt when they entered the kingdom of Hallownest. They had no idea where they were going at the time and yet their seemingly aimless wandering, borne of curiosity, inevitably led them to the dark truth hidden at the bottom of the world. 

The Knight was relying on this instinct now as they waded through a flooded chamber; it appeared that the Muldvarp’s must’ve burst a few of the pipes during their ravenous hunt for food. The water was only waist deep for them and was thankfully clean of any filth, but it was chillingly cold.

_Splash!_

Ghost drew their nail and whirled around, shining their lumfly lantern onto the perpetrator, only to stiffen in alarm when the light revealed Tiny flailing in the freezing water. 

Ghost quickly rushed over and plucked the Tiniest out of the water, before stilling again when they spotted Two and Three clinging to the wall nearby. It dawned on Ghost that they must’ve been shimmying along the edge of the water when Tiny had slipped and fallen in. 

Ghost glanced about their surroundings, as if checking to see if anyone else had decided to follow them, before making a vague gesture with their nail at the two siblings still clinging to the wall. But they just shook their heads – Three going the extra mile in the communication department and pointedly pointing at Ghost.

Ghost would have given them an incredulous look; the only sign that they had any reaction at all being the way that their claws flexed around the handle of their nail in agitation.

Their attention was drawn to the Tiniest, who had reached up to tug on Ghost’s shoulder and stare up at them. The Tiniest was probably the most emotive out of the four of them, (including Ghost), and the stubborn look in their eyes told Ghost everything they needed to know.

Their younger siblings felt safest with them, even if Ghost was heading into danger, they were going to follow them no matter what.

Ghost was at an impasse, looking from sibling to sibling as they tried to discern what to do about them. It was dangerous down here, and none of the younger siblings knew how to fight, why couldn’t they understand that it was safer if Ghost went alone?

Ghost wanted to be angry and channel the older sibling vibe to usher the gaggle straight back the way they’d came, but for some reason they couldn’t bring themselves to convince them to turn back by force.

_Foolish…_

_Weakling…_

_You’re going to get them all KILLED…_

Ghost slammed the point of their nail into the wall with a loud clang, the sound ricocheting down the tunnels as their heart raced in their chest. 

Two and Three flinched back in surprise at the sudden movement; fear briefly flickered in their eyes as they clung to the edge of the flooded tunnel, but that fear was quickly obscured by confusion and hurt. Tiny had stiffened in Ghost’s arm, not daring to try making any move with how tightly their elder sibling was suddenly holding them. 

For a few seconds the only sound was the gradually fading echo of the strike, the water drip-drip-dripping, and the thundering of Ghost’s heart pounding in their head.

Then the distant rumbling of rock and earth being rapidly excavated was heard, and suddenly Ghost’s mind came flashing back to startling reality. 

Slinging their nail across their back, Ghost grabbed Three by the hand –who in turn grabbed Two’s hand instinctively – and the three of them went splashing through the flooded section of the tunnel as the rumbling intensified.

Not a minute later, the wall of the passage behind them burst into a cascade of rubble and water; followed by the loud, furious snuffling growls of a rather large Muldvarp as it sought out scent of the fleeing Vessels.

Ghost led their siblings around a corner and then jumped down into another passageway that branched in two different directions. Ghost paused, glancing down each tunnel as they tried to remember which tunnel lead where. They would have checked their map, but the echos of guttural snarling growing louder and louder by the second reminded them that they were pressed for time.

What was worse was that the tunnels were completely dark without their lumfly lantern out, and Ghost was _not_ going to put Tiny down and force them to run as well; they would never be able to keep up.

Using quick thinking, they let go of Three’s hand a retrieved the lumfly lantern before passing it to Tiny to hold, then swiftly grabbed Three by the hand again with Two in tow. They chose to rush down a random direction just as Ghost glimpsed the furred faced of another Muldvarp peaking out of a hole down the opposite tunnel. 

The beasts pursued them, their squirming snouts writhing as they spat and snarled, clawing after the fleeing Vessels as more and more Muldvarps became aware of their presence. The sound of the furred monsters’ growls echoing down the tunnels was maddening. 

One beast stuck its head out of an alcove, its wriggling snout slammed into Ghost, knocking them to the ground and causing them to lose their grip on their siblings.

Two and Three went scittering backwards in a panicked dash to avoid the snapping jaws of the Muldvarp, its head swinging towards them in the cramped space. Tiny was still clinging onto Ghost for dear life.

Ghost was immediately on their feet as they drew their nail and slashed at the monster’s hide, lashing a line of crimson across the beast’s jawline in an effort to draw its attention away from their siblings.

The creature hissed at the pain, and turned its fangs on Ghost with an angry roar. Ghost leapt backwards to avoid the teeth, then retaliated with a blast of Shade Soul straight into the monster’s face.

The Muldvarp reeled from the attack, howling in pain as it retreated back into the alcove it had come from, granting Two and Three enough time to scamper to Ghost’s side. The elder sibling wasted no time in getting the gaggle moving again, rushing down the damp tunnels in an effort to evade the beasts.

As they ran, Ghost noticed that every hundred paces there were signs of the Muldvarps’ desecration of the Waterways; remnants of eaten water-dwelling bugs; claw marks scraped along the walls; evidence of freshly made droppings and disturbed rubble. The Muldvarps had been through here, but as Ghost recalled, Ogrim said that he suspected the creatures were deeper down the Waterways where most of the refuse had ended up.

At the thought of the Dung Defender, Ghost had a sudden epiphany, and quickly ducked down another passage way. Up ahead! Perhaps if they––

Searing pain lanced through Ghost’s right leg and they suddenly found themselves swept off their feet and wrenched into the air, dangling in the jaws of a smaller Muldvarp that had surged through a weak point in the ground.

Ghost dropped Tiny, who managed to evade most harm by tucking into a roll just as their other siblings rushed to catch them.

Ghost lashed out with their nail, but the angle was awkward and they only managed to make shallow cuts in the beast’s neck, which only caused it to bite down harder. 

Ghost’s vision blacked out for a second at the pain of feeling the shell along their leg crack horrifically, spurts of black ichor dripped from the Muldvarp’s jaws.

Spurred on by a rush of adrenaline Ghost swung up and gouged one of the beast’s eyes, and it yowled, dropping Ghost in the process as it retreated back into its burrow.

The gaggle rushed to their injured sibling’s side, but Ghost waved them off, pointing ahead urgently before focusing their soul energy, the wounds along their leg began to heal.

A few seconds later, the band of Vessels were trudging through chamber packed in with grime and decades old bug excrement. 

Unlike most creatures, Vessels did not posses a sense of smell and they had no need, (nor did they posses the means), to eat food to then convert into energy, before expunging the rest of it out the the other end. Thus, the gaggle were only mildly perturbed by the dung-based terrain, but mostly because walking through it was a bit ‘messy’. 

The Muldvarps however, had a very acute sense of smell, and appeared to have stopped chasing them as soon as they came near the Dung Defender’s lair. Hopefully, the beasts would avoid the putrid chambers for the time being.

They came into a cramped vertical shaft. Ghost glanced up and then hooked their arm around Three’s, who hooked their arm around Two’s.

Ghost jumped into the air, activating the Monarch Wings talisman, and pale light surged at the edges of their cloak at the peak of their jump. Their cloak unfurled into wings for a split second and flapped downwards, propelling Ghost and their extra passengers upward as their jump was magically given a second wind.

They landed awkwardly onto the upper floor, their leg smarted in protest as they had to scramble a bit in order to haul Three and Two up over the edge. 

Ghost had been unable to fully heal their injury, only just managing to seal the cracks in their leg so they didn’t bleed to death. At present, they had to deal with a limp for the time being, and would likely be forced to wait a while until it healed properly, but at least they could still walk.

Now that they had made it up, they had to go straight down. Ghost wasted little time in leaping down the next vent, using their monarch wings to soften the landing so that they did not go plunging into the dung below. Hornet would not be happy if they all came back covered in filth.

As they entered the chamber where Ghost had first encountered the Dung Defender, they became aware of a distant tap-tap-taping noise, and Ghost slowed as they approached the valve that controlled the acid level in Isma’s grove until finally bringing the gaggle to a halt just below it. Only then did Ghost set Tiny down and let go of Three and Two.

_Tap, tap, tap._

Ghost turned towards the hole that led into the broken down elevator shaft, the sound coming from out there.

Cautiously, Ghost edged closer to the opening, drawing their nail in case something decided to jump out at them. The younger Vessels huddled closer together and watched on in a mixture of anticipation and fear.

_Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap! Tap!_

Ghost stepped out into the broken elevator shaft and caught sight of a peculiar bug wearing a helmet and carrying a toolkit; the source of the tapping noise coming from the bug’s little hammer.

He had his back to them, and was standing atop the upper platform were he was currently repairing something that Ghost couldn’t see from where they were standing. 

The sight of this new creature set off an impulse within the Knight, and before they knew it, they had already wall-jumped their way up and cleared the last bit of distance by shadow dashing in midair – claw outstretched; the pain in their leg forgotten.

The bug barley had enough time to turn around and cry out as Ghost bodily tackled him to the floor, their nail held dangerously close to the poor bug’s face as the Knight’s abysmal eyes bored into him.

They knew they recognized this bug, they’d seen its likes before! A long time ago, back when the Crossroads had been the _Forgotten_ Crossroads; they had been smaller then and had approached the bug – thinking that it might have something useful to say. But it had ran away before they could reach it. 

“Eek! Let go! I-I was only trying to fix th–“ Ghost’s claws dug into the unfortunate bug’s shell, cutting off his sentence with a pained whimper of terror. They were not going to let one of its kind escape again.

“Little Ghost!” 

Ghost’s head snapped in the direction of the familiar voice, the sight of Hornet down the corridor cleared the haze that had overcome the Knight. Hornet was striding towards them, her face an unreadable mask that reminded Ghost of the time when she had confronted them the first time they’d met.

“Do not kill this one. This particular bug may prove useful to us.” 

When Ghost had yet to move or let the trembling bug up, Hornet’s gaze narrowed into a stern frown.

“What is it, little Ghost? Have you become so starved for bloodlust that you can no longer discern the difference between a mindless husk and an innocent bug.” 

The young Knight stared up at their sister, their body appearing to stiffen as her words dawned on them. Was that it? Were they running off a high of adrenaline ever since the Muldvarp’s invasion started? 

Upon reflection, Ghost realized that when the first Muldvarp had burst from the ground in the Hot Spring after they’d emerged from their chrystalis, Ghost had not felt dread or fear. They had been chillingly calm, almost excited by the appearance of something new to fight.

But then the Hollow Knight told them to run, to flee and protect their siblings.

At the thought of their eldest sibling, Ghost let go of the bug and stepped away from them until their back hit the opposite wall. Their gaze caught sight of their hand, their claws tipped with the ichor of common bugs –– not saturated in sickly orange, or black like their own, but a dark crimson.

The bug had gotten up as soon as Ghost had let go of them and made as if to flee, but Hornet swiftly intercepted them and entrapped them in a web of thread. She only spared a quick glance Ghost’s way, before she knelt down to glare at the tied up bug.

“You. You’re a Menderbug, part of the elusive guild that continuously repairs all the sign posts, is that correct?” Hornet pointed her needle an inch from the bug’s face. “Answer truthfully, and I may grant you the mercy of keeping your shell intact.”

“Y-y-yes, ma’am!” The Menderbug blubbered, “I-I-I am member Mender Berri from Mendersquad Five of the Menderbug guild, ma’am!”

Ghost did not bother to stay and see why Hornet thought it prudent to interrogate the bug, instead they turned away and descended back down to the ledge leading to the Dung Defender’s chamber, where the gaggle were currently peering out of worriedly.

Ghost alighted onto the ledge and brushed past their siblings, hopping atop the platform beneath the lever of the large pipe and sat with their back against it; their eyes held a somewhat distant look. 

Their leg was starting to hurt again.

Tiny, Two and Three could only stare up at their elder sibling with concern and mounting uncertainty.

***

Hornet wasn’t sure what to think. She had been searching the city for Ghost and the others when she’d heard the startled yelp of a bug coming from the corridor to the broken elevator. When she went to investigate, she was shocked to see that Ghost was the assailant, and even more apprehensive when she’d witness the Menderbug plead for his life only for Ghost to respond with violence.

She had to step in and intervene before things had a chance to escalate; she didn’t want Ghost to kill the Menderbug for two reasons, the first being that she did not wish to waste the opportunity to interrogate a member of the elusive guild. Her second reasoning was that she did not want her sibling to make killing innocent bugs a habit. They already had enough problems to deal with. 

She guessed that since Ghost was here, then the little ones were not far behind. In fact, she suspected that Ghost had them taking refuge in the Dung Defender’s lair. She had also noted the slight limp in Ghost’s gait when they retreated down the elevator shaft.

“Are you aware of the current crisis that has befallen the kingdom?” Hornet inquired.

“Umm,” Mender Berri’s gaze darted about the room. “Y-y-you mean the mud hogs? Yes! Th-th-they crashed our last Menderbash! They ate Mender Verdi and Mender Nogi… I had to do something! We can’t get together because of the mud hogs, and so the next Menderbash has been postponed indefinitely!” 

Mender Berri looked like he was about to cry, so Hornet quickly moved on to the next question that had come up during the Menderbug’s explanation.

“What do you mean? What have you been doing down here?”

“Well…” Mender Berri hesitated, shifting a bit in their bindings and looking towards the toolkit that had been thrown aside during the skirmish. “I have these notes that I found in Mender Verdi’s home…”

Hornet glanced at the upended toolkit, reaching out to pick it up and the contents spilled onto the floor. The thinly cut tablets clattered to the ground, at least a dozen of them. 

Picking up a tablet at random, Hornet glanced the writing over.  
—  
Schedule #174 Date: 450 PHF

RESTRICTED AREA: Check Waypoint and Maintenance Hub signs for water damage.

Be CAREFUL of ACID LEAKAGE from PIPE 12.

SHUT OFF PIPE 2. Glass broken.  
—

At first, Hornet did not understand why Mender Berri thought these notes were important, but something about it was nagging the back of her mind. She picked up another tablet.

—  
Schedule #112 Date: 387 PHF

RESTRICTED AREA: ~~Turn VALVE 12 counter-clockwise at Maintenance Hub.~~

DO NOT TOUCH VALVE 12.

Valve 1–10 control Water Pressure.

Valve 12 initiates Purge.

Valve 11 initiates Flush.

—

Hornet glanced up at Mender Berri, eyes wide with realization. “Where is this Maintenance Hub?”


	21. Exterminate

It was a shame that Tuk had gotten horribly infected during the time the plague was running rampant through-out Hallownest. Ghost didn’t know the strange panda bug well, but Tuk had been searching for something, similar to how they had been searching for something as well – although they may not have realized it at the time.

To see Tuk’s body slumped over now –though no longer riddled with pulsating pustules of infection– was a solemn reminder that Ghost was unable to save everyone. 

Slowly they approached the corpse, and with care they used their nail to cut the rope holding Tuk’s large haul together, causing the assortment of junk to fall to the floor.

Ghost did not care for the shiny bits and bobbles the scavenger had collected, they only had eyes for the greasy sack that they knew was filled with rancid eggs. Once they retrieved it from the pile, they began loading their inventory with as many of the fatty things as they could, before slinging the rest of the sack over one shoulder and walking out of the alcove, but not without pausing a moment to dispense a large sum of geo beside Tuk’s corpse. It was the least they could do.

Hornet had returned to where Ghost and the other siblings were sequestered in the Dung Defender’s Lair, and had roused the Knight from their brooding stupor with some interesting news.

Apparently, there was a section of the Royal Waterways that Ghost hadn’t known existed until Hornet explained that Mender Berri had notes from one of his colleagues that suggested otherwise; that there was a restricted area of the Waterways dedicated to the plumbing maintenance of the entire city.

The simple fact that there was a place in Hallownest that Ghost had yet to explore was enough to bring Ghost out of their gloominess. But unfortunately, Hornet had another task for them in mind.

_“The Menderbug and I shall investigate this Maintenance Hub, if we are fortunate we may have a way to employ Quirrel’s plan to drown the Muldvarps. But we need some way to keep the beasts inside the Waterways until then.” Hornet had said, then looked to the three troublemakers who were standing nearby, no doubt listening intently. “You three on the other hand are to go back to the Relic Seeker’s dwelling and stay there until it is safe.”_

_Of course, the gaggle had opposed to this, wanting nothing more than to help defeat the Muldvarps too. But Hornet, unlike Ghost, had easily exerted her Big-Sister Mode™ and marched the three siblings straight back to the city were it would be safe from any attacks._

The Muldvarps did appear to be making the Waterways their new home, and Ghost realized with irritation that the creatures could swim just as well as they could dig. 

The Knight watched from a safe ledge above the chasm below as a behemoth sized Muldvarp lazily swam across the mostly flooded chamber, diving down every now and then like a great slug to pick off the squirming milfs at the bottom. _That_ Muldvarp was nearly as big as the great Unn.

It seemed like Quirrel’s idea to drown the beasts wouldn’t be such a good idea after all. 

Ghost decided to test their own theory, and retrieved an egg from their inventory. As soon as they did so, they noticed how the creatures seemed to pause in their foraging through the garbage; lifting their snouts to the air and sniffing.

Ghost threw the egg down into the chasm, watching as it landed amongst the refuse with a squishy splat. The Muldvarps were instantly drawn by the stench of decay, clambering over the piles of junk whilst making loud snuffling and snorting noises, before the closest one snatched it up in its jaws and gulped it down. The other Muldvarps sniffed about a few seconds before they seemed to realize that their fellow beast had eaten the rancid treat, and they started snarling and biting angrily at the culprit.

Without waiting another moment, Ghost emptied the eggy contents of the inventory onto the creatures below; the beasts went into a frenzy, and even the behemoth Muldvarp stuck its head out of the water with a deep gurgle, its eyes gleaming like malevolent rubies.

More Muldvarps were coming out of the tunnels and into the main chamber, attracted to the smell of rotten eggs, and Ghost quickly dumped the rest of the eggs that were in Tuk’s lunch sack into the chamber. That should keep the beasts occupied for a time. 

They were about to use their Dream nail to warp back to the city where they had planted a dreamgate prior to heading down, when they were suddenly shoved from behind by a wet wriggling snout of a smaller Muldvarp that must of come down the tunnel Ghost had used. 

Ghost went toppling over the edge, landing amongst a pile of garbage as the Muldvarp now occupying the ledge sniffed about quizzically; it could have sworn it nosed something, but the air was so pungent with the delicious stink of rotten eggs that it wasn’t able to pick out any other scent.

—-

Meanwhile, after Hornet deposited the children at Lemm’s shop, (much to his displeasure), she and Mender Berri went to the Storerooms to inform Quirrel of the situation.

Ogrim had yet to come back, so Quirrel asked the Old Stag that if the Dung Defender were to show up to tell him that the children had been found and that they were now going to execute the plan.

After which, Mender Berri led the way in the direction of the King’s station where the apartment buildings were, their rooms vacant of their past occupants. 

A lot of the infected sentries and bugs that used to patrol the area were now dead, most of their husks having already been swept away by the constant rainfall, though there were the accessional corpse here and there. 

Hornet and Quirrel hardly expected there to be anyone who was still alive in these parts of the city, but when Mender Berri eventually came to a stop in front of an open doorway that was lined with strange glowing flowers, they were quite surprised to hear laughter.

“Well, somebody certainly seems happy.” Quirrel commented lightly as they followed Mender Berri inside. Hornet had her nail drawn just in case.

“Ah, what a surprise! I must say this is the most visitors I have received in a long time.” The high class bug greeted with a loud guffaw. “Life is so wonderful!”

“D-don’t mind Eternal Emilitia,” Mender Berri whispered to Hornet and Quirrel. “She’s been, uh, a little out of it ever since the upper crust of the city’s high society cast her out.”

“Oh… hmmm…Oh! Now this _is_ a surprise!” Emilitia exclaimed, her eyes landing on Hornet and going wide. Emilitia wobbled on her seat as she did what could only be described as a tipsy attempt at a bow. “I did not expect to host royalty! A thousand pardons, mistress! Ahhh, I’m just so happy. Those cretins were wrong for casting me out! I’ll be the talk of the capitol, I will! Well…no, no I won’t. The rest of the upper caste are all blissfully dead. Ahahahahaha! Eternal Emilitia wins!”

The disheveled bug fell into a fit of laughter, completely oblivious to the fact that her ‘guests’ were quietly sneaking past her and into the back room.

“That one has clearly gone mad,” Hornet mused as they traversed downwards into a sort of piped space, copper plating lining the walls, having long since turned green with age. 

“Oh? I thought she seemed rather nice.” Quirrel replied nonchalantly, and Hornet shot him a dubious look.

“No, really, you cannot be serious.” She drawled, rolling her eyes at him.

“Ah! Here it is!” Mender Berri’s hoot of triumph brought Hornet’s attention back to the Menderbug, who was tapping at the bricks lining one part of the wall. “It should be here somewhere, I think.”

Quirrel shimmied around Hornet to get a closer look at the wall Berri was poking at. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing? Perhaps there’s a certain sequence that–“ 

The brick where Quirrel had placed his hand on in order to steady himself suddenly sunk into the wall, causing Quirrel to stumble slightly in surprise. “Oh. Never mind, I think I found it.”

The sound of stone grinding against stone was heard as the brickwork before them began to retract into the wall, sliding aside to reveal the entrance to a hidden passageway.

The tunnel ahead was dark, and the path ahead was lined with metal catwalk that was covered in century old grime and rust. The air smelled stale and uninviting.

Hornet was the first to take the lead, taking out a Lumfly lantern from a pocket in her cloak and securing it to the eye of her needle with a length of thread. With it, she lit the path ahead, and headed inside with Quirrel and Mender Berri following close behind.

Their footsteps echoed against the metal flooring as they delved further inside the long tunnel, there were hardly any sources of light, only the palest of flickers from lumflies who had escaped the shattered remains of their glass prisons that were imbedded in the walls every few paces.

It was eerily quiet, and surprisingly dry inside, and for a while nobody dared to break the silence.

_HHHSSSHHH!_

Hornet made a startled noise as a cloud of steam blasted mere inches from her face, causing her to reflexively jump back and to bump into Quirrel and Berri who also gave startled yelps at the sudden noise.

The steam hissed out in front of the trio for a few more seconds before it subsided. Hornet lifted up her lumfly lantern and realized the steam had come from one of the many pipes running along the walls.

Shaking her head, Hornet tsked at her own foolishness for letting herself get spooked by a mere puff of vapor, and quickly motioned for the others to hurry up as she pressed on.

Periodically more hisses of steam exhaled from pipes as they went, and sometimes Hornet swore she heard something akin to banging noises, but they were always too faint for her to say for sure.

Hornet would have said that she was used to traversing places that others would normally find uncomfortable, but unlike Deepnest, this place disconcerted her. In Deepnest there was always webs of silk and thread lining the caverns and tight spaces for spiders and weavers alike; no resident of Deepnest needed to worry about becoming lost, for they only needed to follow the near invisible threads to find their way. 

This place however, was cold and uninviting, the metal beneath her feet was rigid and unyielding. For once, Hornet might’ve dared say that she was also beginning to feel the slightest bit claustrophobic.

Then there was a bend in the tunnel, and when the three of them turned the corner they caught sight of greenish light emanating from the end of the tunnel.

They found themselves entering a large chamber lined with intact lanterns, and in the center of the room was a large machine that all the pipes appeared to converge onto. 

At the base of the machine was what appeared to be a control panel connected to 12 major pipes, beneath which were valves with numbers etched along their rims.

“This must be it!” Mender Berri exclaimed unnecessarily, scuttling towards the machine.

“Hold on a moment,” Quirrel warned, pointing towards the largest pipe, which possessed a long diagonal crack along its surface and was leaking corrosive liquids. “We must be careful not to disturb anything that might cause something to malfunction. I’d hate to be stuck in here should that valve happen to break apart any further.”

“Then what should we do?” Berri inquired.

For a moment Hornet said nothing as she scanned about the room, her mind running through a plethora of things that might help her come up with a reasonable plan of action.

“Those notes,” Hornet finally spoke, “one of them mentions something about the twelfth valve purging the waterways when filth builds up?”

“Umm, I mean, I guess? None of Mender Verdi’s notes say in great detail what each one does. But maybe…?” 

Quirrel nodded in agreement. “I suppose that would make sense.”

“Then it’s settled. We’ll initiate the purge and drown those mud eating monsters with acid.” Hornet declared darkly, stepping towards valve twelve.

“Hornet, wait!” Quirrel reached out and grasped her shoulder. “That pipe looks like it’ll burst if anymore pressure is put onto it. Open that valve and the acid will likely come spraying out of that crack in it. You will surely get yourself severely wounded!”

Hornet’s eyes narrowed and she shook off Quirrel’s grasp on her shoulder. “You underestimate me, Quirrel. My shell is not as soft as others may believe, and I’ve a sworn duty to uphold in defending Hallownest from invaders. I must do what has to be done.”

***

Ghost had never fought so viciously in their life, by the time the Muldvarps had become aware of their presence, they had already drenched the floor with blood.

The largest Muldvarp roared loud enough to shake debris from the ceiling and cause the water’s surface to ripple wildly. It’s jaws were large enough to devour Ghost in one bite, and its bellows seemed to drive the smaller Muldvarps into a frenzy.

But Ghost was swift and agile, slashing downwards on top of unsuspecting Muldvarps from overhead and bouncing off of them as the behemoth clawed after them; heedless of the smaller members being trampled underfoot.

They slashed, jabbed, dashed, and fired barrages of spells; Desolate diving into groups of Muldvarps and Abyssal shrieking whenever the beasts tried to overwhelm them with numbers. Whenever they got the chance, they’d aim a Shade soul blast right at the behemoth, which only seemed to drive the oversized beast further into a rage.

Huge chunks of the ceiling had began to fall due to the incredible racket being caused below, water leaking through widening cracks and spraying from broken pipes, making the ground slippery and hazardous.

Ghost couldn’t keep this up, more and more Muldvarps seemed to be summoned by the cries of what they could only assume was their matriarch. As much as they wanted to continue hacking into the bloated creatures, it was a losing battle and so Ghost made to retreat down one of the tunnels that had the least Muldvarps pouring out of it.

The behemoth pursued them, its massive claws tearing through stone and earth like it were nothing but sand, completely obliterating the mouth of the tunnel as it forced its way through; rocks and rubble went flying in all directions. Ghost ran down the tunnel as fast as they could, there was no time to charge up a super dash with the crystal heart, and so they were forced to flee on foot; shadow dashing straight through bits of debris that came tumbling into their path, unwilling to risk having their pace slowed by obstacles. 

The behemoth sized Muldvarp’s jaws opened wide, Ghost could feel its rancid breath on their back, they weren’t going to make it! The stone path in front of them buckled and pitched at an upwards angle, and suddenly Ghost found themselves being hurled backwards through the air and into the gaping maw of the behemoth.

“BAAAHH-FUNDAAAAHH!!!” A tremendous battle cry heralded the arrival of a bombastic dung-beetle warrior as he soared through the air and slammed between the jaws of the Muldvarp before it could snap them shut and swallow the young Knight whole.

“Greetings, little one!” Knight Ogrim acknowledged cheerily to Ghost even whilst he valiantly held the Muldvarp’s jaws pried open with his own two claws, which were visibly shaking with the effort. “Hurry now and escape! I’ll hold off the moldy scoundrel!”

Ghost stared at the Dung Defender disbelievingly, quickly scrambling to their feet before turning around and blasting another spell of shade soul right into the beast’s gullet.

The creature gave a agonized cry as it slammed its head from side to side against the walls, dislodging Ogrim from its jaws in the process, who bounced across the floor a few times before landing flat on his back some distance away.

“Woah-ho! Nice counter attack there!” Ogrim called as he flailed on his back like a turtle.

Ghost quickly rushed over and grabbed his claw, pulling him back onto his feet, before pointing down the tunnel. Ogrim got the hint and the two of them were soon running once more as the behemoth recovered from the attack and resumed chasing after them.

“I must say, you are an honorable Knight, my friend!” Ogrim declared. “I would not have blamed you for fleeing with your life whilst I laid out my own to rescue you! But you returned the favor without a moment’s hesitation! Why, if the king were here, I’m sure his majesty would have rewarded you with the honor of upmost bravery!”

Ghost once might have felt sore about the mention of their birth father, but at the moment they were too thrilled with the adrenaline of the chase, the excitement rushing through them filling them with a sense of exhilaration so strong that – if they were able to – they would have started laughing. 

Suddenly the rumbling of the large Muldvarp’s pursuit slowed, and both Ghost and Ogrim became aware of a new rumbling sound. This one they felt more than heard, much stronger and more ominous as it grew stronger and stronger.

Then, the matriarch of the Muldvarps let out a terrified shriek as it spurred into action once more, this time it rushed towards them but it seemed as though it was attempting to flee rather than catch them.

Not a second later, it hit. A tidal wave of water and acid poured through the Royal Waterways, flooding the tunnels as the current swept away Muldvarp, bug, and garbage alike. 

The rushing acid quickly formed whirlpools in the larger chambers and trapped anything that got pulled into its acidic thrall, corroding the flesh from the beasts’ soft hides as the screamed, the acid filling their jagged maws and eating away at them from the inside out.

The behemoth sized Muldvarp collided with Ogrim and Ghost as the rushing water crashed into it from behind, next thing they knew they were holding onto the back of the Muldvarp’s head as the momentum sent all three of them hurtling down the tunnel and out into the domain of the Fungal wastes.

They crashed in a heap, the mushrooms softening their fall and sending up a massive cloud of spores as water and acid flooded around them. The Muldvarp had gotten the most injured, having crashed headfirst into the stonework ahead and crushing the statue of the Dashmaster, where it lay limply.

Ghost had been protected from the acid water’s harmful effects by Isma’s Tear, and Ogrim only suffered minor burns. 

“Well that was an exciting endeavor!” Ogrim stated, rising to his feet and dusting himself off. “It appears that our foe has been vanquished at last, little one!” 

Ghost got up as well, hopping down to where the Muldvarp’s body lay, and giving it a good wack with the flat side of their blade. The beast remained still.

Ghost moved around to inspect the rest of it, only to pause once they caught sight of the jagged shard of stone sticking out of the Muldvarp’s head, its eyes were dull and lifeless with its maw partially opened in a death snarl. Only then was Ghost satisfied that they had won.

***

After Ghost and Ogrim had made their way back to the City of Tears, it was discovered that it wasn’t Hornet who had turned the twelfth valve and allowed the acid to flood the Waterways, but Quirrel, who had decided to sacrifice himself in order to exterminate the Muldvarps.

Fortunately, Quirrel did not perish from the acid that sprayed him, but he did suffer severe burns that nearly killed him. Hornet had been too stubborn to let the simple bug die on her. 

_“Why did you interfere?!” Hornet had yelled as she’d proceeded to mummify Quirrel in silken bandages._

__

_“Hah…Ghost would have killed me if I had stood by and let another one of their siblings sacrifice themselves…” Quirrel had coughed with a shaky grin, bleeding from several places where his shell had been burned away._

____

_“What?!” Hornet snapped. “The little Ghost is going to kill ME for allowing you to pull such a reckless stunt! I believed you of all bugs would have been smarter than this!”_

_____ _

_“Uhh! W-we should probably get out of here!” Mender Berri had fearfully gestured at the pipe now pouring acid into the room, a sizable pool already forming._

______ _ _

_Hornet gave a frustrated groan and hefted Quirrel up, having surprised him with how easily she did so, and had proceeded to carry him out of the Maintenance Hub with Mender Berri following close behind._

______ _ _

After the trio had made it out and sealed the secret entrance behind them, they had quickly rushed back to Lemm’s house were the children proceeded to go into an anxious tizzy over the barely conscious Quirrel.

______ _ _

Ghost had later gone down to the Maintenance Hub themselves to shut off the twelfth valve and turn on the eleventh which would supposedly flush the Waterways clean of the acid, before shutting that valve off as well once Ogrim gave them the all clear.

______ _ _

The majority of the Muldvarps which had congregated within the Waterways had been thoroughly wiped out, being reduced to nothing but bones by the acid waters, and the few that hadn’t been killed were gradually picked off one by one until the rest of them fled from Hallownest entirely. 

______ _ _

What ensued in the aftermath of the Muldvarp’s invasion was a kingdom-wide clean up, aided by the residences of Deepnest and even the Mantis Village. A rare sight it was to see both Mantis and Weaver working together to move corpses and fill in dug holes. 

______ _ _

The Town of Dirtmouth was rebuilt as soon as the townsfolk received word that the Muldvarps were gone. Nailmaster Mato and Nailmaster Oro had both survived the ordeal, having done a good job clearing the place of Muldvarps. 

______ _ _

As soon as Ghost and the others made it to Dirtmouth they were met with the sight of their eldest sibling helping out with moving the bodies out of the way.

______ _ _

Ghost and the rest of the children practically threw themselves at the Hollow Knight, tears of joy were shed as Ghost hugged Hollow tightly.

______ _ _

Hornet had watched the reunion from afar for a moment before making her way to the cottage which had remarkably remained intact, and setting Quirrel up someplace he could rest and recuperate. 

______ _ _

Gritten had followed her, mewing obnoxiously as they flitted about her excitedly.

______ _ _

Hornet looked disdainfully at the flying terror. “I suppose it would have been too much to hope that you would have been eaten, wouldn’t it.”

______ _ _

“Mrrew…” Was all Gritten uttered in reply.

______ _ _

Meanwhile, whilst Ghost and the other townsfolk of Dirtmouth were aiding in rebuilding the town, Ghost noticed that one of the Muldvarp corpses was moving.

______ _ _

Quickly, Ghost rushed over and slashed the Muldvarp’s belly open.

______ _ _

“Gah!! Watch it you clumsy little oaf! You almost struck me!” The horribly familiar voice of a certain self-proclaimed Knight made Ghost deflate with regret as they witnessed Zote rise from the entrails of the carved up beast.

______ _ _

“I am Zote the Mighty, and once again I, a knight of great renown, have single handedly defeated—Ack!”

______ _ _

Zote was interrupted by the flat side of Ghost’s blade bashing him upside the head, causing the All Mighty Zote to fall into All Mighty Unconsciousness, his form slumping to the ground with a thump.

______ _ _

Ghost figured nobody would mind if they left the unconscious bug amongst the rotting corpses of the Muldvarps. Who? Zote? Never heard of the guy. 

______ _ _

They turned on their heel and promptly walked in the opposite direction with an innocent skip in their step. There was much work to be done, Hallownest might have survived the siege of Muldvarps, but that did not mean the kingdom did not suffer loses.

______ _ _

They would rebuild, and when the next threat comes, the young Knight would be ready.

______ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Glad that's over and done with, hoooh boi, that was quite the adventure. I never thought I'd be able to get this far, but your guys' lovely comments and support has helped me find the motivation within me to keep on writing!
> 
> Thank you all for your wonderful support! Though mind you, this certainly is not the end of our adventures yet! There's still plenty of shenanigans to come in the near future. But for now, I think I deserve a well earned rest, at least until the Gods & Glory update comes around. :3c


	22. Update!!!

In case you haven't noticed. Hollow Knight's Godmaster DLC (formerly known as Gods & Glory) has arrived! And as promised, I've posted the next part of the Void Children AU, and you can read the first chapter by going to this link here! https://archiveofourown.org/works/15779634/chapters/36712473

Or by clicking the •Next Work --> down below! vvvv


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